


I'll fly back to you (always)

by Kendrene



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Lena Luthor Knows Kara Danvers Is Supergirl, Lena Luthor needs some sleep, temporary memory loss, the roomba Kara AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26272435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendrene/pseuds/Kendrene
Summary: That’s when she sees Kara floating gently right outside her window. Lena has time to witness her fly face-first into the impact resistant glass the way disoriented birds sometimes do before darkness returns, dripping with rain.“Kara?” Lena rubs at her eyes in disbelief, briefly wondering whether she’s still asleep, or perhaps hallucinating.But, once she pulls the window open, Kara gently floats inside, followed by a spray of chilling rain.“Kara, are you alright? Is something going on?”ORthe roomba Kara AU
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 279
Kudos: 1726





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is all tooth rotting fluff and humor. Okay - mostly. Might go up to E in later chapters I've not made up my mind yet.
> 
> \- Dren

The first time it happens, Lena takes a while to register it.

She’s fallen asleep at the desk in her home office, lost in a sea of spreadsheets and quarterly reports. Her laptop has long switched itself off, and her wristwatch would read 1a.m. if she were awake to glance at it. 

Lena snatching what sleep she can at her desk is a common sight inside the Luthor household, even more so after an entire universe was torn asunder and stitched back together. There’s the damage Leviathan and her brother caused to mend, and now that she’s bought Obsidian North and incorporated it with L-Corp, an incredibly advanced network worth of malicious tech to dismantle. 

As such, the nights Lena gets to fall asleep in bed are few and far between — if she’s lucky she may remember to drag her tired body to the couch, but that happens rarely too. 

And the desk chair isn’t that bad, really. It’s reclinable, even. 

Something _thwaps_ against the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city, but she barely hears it, drifting as she is in the weird no-man's-land that stretches between wakefulness and sleep. Lena is aware of the room around her; the soft glow of the desk lamp pressing against her eyelids, the low buzz of the fridge coming from the kitchen — but she’s not truly awake. 

The noise comes again, just a little louder, and as thunder crashes right above the neighbourhood, she twitches awake with a gasp. 

“Wha—?” 

But the apartment is dark and still, save for the small pool of light in which she sits, and the windows are sheeted with rain, thunder rumbling again somewhere in the distance. 

Whatever woke her up beside the storm, she must have dreamt it. 

She briefly debates whether she should stumble off to bed or spend the rest of the night here, when lightning flashes across the sky, banishing all shadow for a moment. 

That’s when she sees Kara floating gently right outside her window. Lena has time to witness her fly face-first into the impact resistant glass the way disoriented birds sometimes do before darkness returns, dripping with rain. 

“Kara?” Lena rubs at her eyes in disbelief, briefly wondering whether she’s still asleep, or perhaps hallucinating. 

But, once she pulls the window open, Kara gently floats inside, followed by a spray of chilling rain. 

“Kara, are you alright? Is something going on?” 

There’s no answer. Kara bumbles onward, body coming to a stop when her hip collides with the corner of the desk. She grunts, but makes no other sound. 

Then, light shines over her rain-slicked features, and Lena understands something’s very, _very_ wrong. 

Kara is _asleep_.

In hindsight, she should have noticed right away. 

For starters, Kara’s floating belly up, which isn’t the way she flies whilst saving Earth from total annihilation. Secondly, she wears civilian clothes — namely a rain-drenched pajamas stamped with… are those actual train cars? 

Lena squints down at one of Kara’s sleeves, but water dimmed the colors of the fabric and details are hard to make out. 

Anyway, Kara’s choice of bedroom attire should be the last of Lena’s worries at the moment, but thankfully, she isn’t sleeping in the nude. 

A waste, really, her brain unhelpfully provides, causing her to flush so violently she’s glad for the cold air cutting through the living room. Scattering the stack of papers on the floor like a handful of very big confetti.

Lena stares at Kara for a few beats longer before hurrying to the window. She firmly shuts the rain outside, pressing her forehead to the cold glass until her thoughts are not so loud anymore. 

Until something soft and pliant bumps into her from behind, and she nearly jumps out of her bones, the beginning of a startled scream swelling inside her chest.

She twists around to find Kara beatifically hovering next to her, the top of her head coming to rest against Lena’s side insistently when she tries to move away. 

She’s snoring, a ripping sound that Lena would find adorable if she didn’t feel so conflicted about Kara sleep-floating in the middle of her penthouse. 

She looks cute with her drool-stained chin and that crease she gets in between her eyes when she’s dreaming about something. Lena has to keep herself from reaching out to trace it, the way she did so many times when they were still having sleepovers at one another’s places. 

Kara floats into her again, and Lena rubs at her eyes with a weary heaviness, before gently steering her weirdly weightless body toward the couch. 

She keeps the touching to a minimum, just what is sufficient to guide Kara away from the window and across the living room. 

You’re not supposed to wake people up if they’re sleep-walking — she’s read it somewhere — and it feels safer to assume sleep-floating follows the same rules.

Kara drifts along obediently, bobbing up and down like a buoy. The snoring grows louder whenever Lena’s hand brushes her shoulder, but Kara’s eyes remain shut, her face scrunching up occasionally with her dreams. They reach the couch, and Kara sleep-lowers on it as though her subconscious can recognize the place where she and Lena used to share so many of their evenings. 

At the sight of Kara draped over the pristine leather, air is wicked from Lena’s lungs, the oxygen burning off like there’s a fire raging inside her. 

She still has feelings for Kara, obviously, and her sudden appearance quickly brings them to the surface. Lips pressed into a stubborn line, Lena buries them into the most secluded corners of her heart — what is out of sight can’t hurt her. 

Her therapist would disagree, but Luthors excel at compartmentalizing. 

Things between them are — complicated is a good word to summarize their relationship, and not nearly enough — and have been for some time. 

It took the death of an entire multiverse and almost losing everything she had for Lena to realize she can’t exist without Kara in her life. 

Everything is still extremely awkward, but Lena decides immediately after offering Kara her help against Leviathan that she can cope with it. They forgive one another and move on, and if the cushion worth of space that now lies between them during movie night feels like an insurmountable gulf, if they don’t do sleepovers anymore — well, it’s a small price to pay to have Kara by her side, whatever the capacity. 

Their friendship, as fragile as it is, is something to be cherished. Watered, the way you do with a rare flower, in the hopes that the roots may grow and someday it’ll bloom to show its beauty once again. 

The pool of rainwater expanding on the floor at an alarming rate brings Lena back to what needs doing, and she startles, realizing she should grab some towels, get Kara into something dry. 

Just because Kara’s never come down with something as stupid as a cold — not that Lena can remember anyway — doesn’t mean she can’t get sick. 

Well, _technically_ she doesn’t, not with human illnesses at the very least, but Lena’s mind latches onto the notion as though her life depends on it. 

Anything to avoid thinking of the emotional garbage that’s threatening to spill all over her chest. 

She hurries to the closet in the hallway, the one where the bathroom towels are stored, pulling out a handful without looking. Next stop is her bedroom, where she rummages through her wardrobe as quietly as possible, hunting for something that will fit Kara’s broader frame. The search ends with her hand closing around an old oversized MIT hoodie, but the moment she turns to retrace her steps, Lena gets the second scare of the night. 

Kara float-followed her into the bedroom, and the unexpected find has her on the precipice of a stroke. 

Lena pulls in a shaky breath, clean clothes and towels hugged to her chest to try and cushion the antics of her heart. She’s surprised Kara isn’t woken by the sound it makes as it slips into overdrive. 

“Fuck.” 

Kara makes a small noise while she dreams that could be interpreted as agreement, and a giggle claws its way out of Lena’s mouth. 

She has to clamp her teeth around the sound to stifle it, but despite her efforts she’s almost in hysterics. She hasn’t laughed in — it must be months, really — and the absurdity of the current situation has her body trying to catch up all at once. 

Lena needs to keep her head on the right way, to keep her cool in order to help Kara — she understands as much — but the problem with both is that the desire of having Kara in her bedroom has been a constant for Lena from the first time they met. 

She hadn’t been looking for friendship (certainly not love) — she’d told herself she was not in need of either after Andrea Rojar left her heart in shambles — but Kara had been so persistent, how could she say no? 

And when you fall for someone so diligently, with the most exquisite conscientiousness and care, you can’t stop loving them simply because you would like to. 

The mind might know what the best course is, but the heart rarely agrees. 

“Fuck.” She says again, with a slight shake in her voice, glaring down at Kara’s peaceful face for everything she’s worth. 

In the end, she places the towels and hoodie on top of Kara’s chest, and after having given herself a motivational pep-talk of _you can take care of this Lena_ that sounds pretty fucking unconvincing, she half-pushes, half-tugs her back into the living room.

Of course, Miss Sleeping Beauty happily snores through the whole trip. 

“I can’t believe you.” Lena hisses, as she engages Kara’s wet clothing in a fight without quarter. “This is just so fucking in character for you. I swear to God, Kara, if you’re faking it—” 

As if drawn by her voice, Kara rolls over, arms going around Lena’s waist and pulling her down on the couch before she can put up a shadow of resistance. 

It’s been so damn long since there’s been any kind of prolonged contact between them — let alone _this_ specific kind — that Lena’s brain whites out completely. She loses focus, thoughts itching at her eyes like the grainy black and white of an out of tune TV. Her bastard of a heart speeds up again and as Kara’s arms tighten — albeit unconsciously — around her, Lena’s mouth runs drier than the desert outside Dubai. 

She remembers how Kara used to hold her in excruciating detail. The casual cuddling on the couch, the hugs from behind while they were prepping dinner.

Kara would always end up stealing a bite or two before the food was ready, but Lena could only fake being mad at her then. Hate hadn’t been an emotion she’d ever thought she’d feel toward Kara. Hate had come later, and proved her wrong. 

She can almost feel Kara’s fingers threading through her hair the way they used to when she was on the edge of sleep, their movie muted and forgotten on the flat screen TV. The startling pecks on her cheek; Kara’s hand creeping across the table if they were at lunch, stopping only after their fingers touched. Kara wrapping her jacket around Lena's shoulders on particularly chilly days before she could even mention being cold.

Now, they studiously avoid even the accidental contact. Sometimes, they happen to slip back into the long-abandoned habits, and flinch away from one another as one would after grabbing a hot pot without wearing an oven mitt.

The familiar sting of tears disrupts the flow of memories, and she struggles to extract herself from the embrace. A small huff of disappointment inflates Kara’s cheeks, but she doesn’t wake. 

Lena is relieved. She wouldn’t know how to explain the redness in her eyes. 

The hoodie is truly huge, even on Kara, with the result she looks like a drowned mouse that wandered onto Lena’s couch. She’s snoring louder too — a buzzsaw cutting through piles and piles of wood. 

“Guess we know who’s not getting any more sleep tonight, uh?” Lena mumbles to herself, hating that she can’t completely rid her voice of the fondness warming it. 

She makes to go back to her desk — may as well put the sleepless night to use — but stops short halfway there, catching Kara take off again out of the corner of her eye. 

“Are you _shitting_ me.” She says under her breath, so low that the rain pattering on the window panes comes close to washing away the words. 

Victim to a sudden thought, Lena grits her teeth and takes another step. Kara bobs on, stopping if she stops, and drifting after her as she takes a complete tour of the house, like a human-shaped balloon tied to Lena’s wrist by an invisible string. The moment she sits back down on the couch, Kara joins her, and Lena has to dig her nails into her palm not to jerk away from her. 

In the next half hour, she puts the scientific method to the test. She discovers that she can place some distance between herself and Kara, as long as she remains inside the living room. 

Standing and walking away from the couch has her feeling like Tom Cruise in _Mission Impossible_ , except that instead of stealing in, she’s trying to tip-toe _out_. 

Thirty steps — that’s how much she’s apparently allowed. Crossing into the kitchen is a no-go, and as for the bathroom down the hall…

After a prolonged, chest-deep sigh, Lena tears her gaze away from Kara and strides over to the sideboard, pouring herself a stiff drink. 

And another. And another after that. 

***

Morning finds her nodding off on the chair she dragged next to the couch so that she could keep an eye on Kara. 

The storm abated overnight, and when daylight stretches its pale fingers across her face, Lena’s first instinct is to turn away, bury her face into the pillow. 

Instead, she slides off the chair ass first, and ends up sprawled on the carpet at Kara’s feet. 

Because, to add insult to injury, Kara just woke up.

“Lena?” Blue eyes still a little glazed, Kara blinks down. She frowns, then a light seems to turn on somewhere in her head. “Uhm. Why are you on the floor?” 

“Oh, I just like sleeping there.” Lena bites off every word, picking herself up. “You don’t remember?” 

“Uhh…” Kara runs a hand through her hair, and they stick up in all directions, making her look even more lost. “We were watching a movie and I fell asleep here? Wow, that hasn’t happened in ages, uh?” 

“Yeah.” Irritation evaporates, replaced by ice in Lena’s veins. With anybody else Lena would think of a prank, but it’s clear from Kara’s tone she really has no recollection of flying into her window. 

On the couch, Kara prattles on, oblivious to what her words are causing. It’s a wonder she can’t hear the cogs in Lena’s mind turning double time to solve the puzzle. 

“And I’ll wash the hoodie for you, of course.” Kara is saying, plucking at one sleeve. 

Some unnamed emotion flashes across her face, gone before Lena has a chance to identify it. 

“There’s no need, really.” Lena deflects, the words like shards of glass in her throat. There had been a time, not that long ago, during which her comfiest sweaters had been renting out a space in Kara’s closet. Lena didn’t mind. No matter how thoroughly Kara washed them, a whiff of her cologne would always stay.

Maybe it makes her a creep, but Lena yearns to have that back — the illusion that things between them have gone back to normal. What’s worse, she can see the irony of it. 

Kara stretches, eyes crackling at the edges while she yawns. The exposed curve of her pale throat draws Lena’s gaze in like a magnet. 

“Anyway, thanks for letting me stay overnight. Haven’t slept this good in ages. Breakfast?” 

Lena’s _tired_ , repressed feelings take a left turn toward murder. 

***

She has no idea why she doesn’t tell Kara the truth. Lena tells herself she doesn’t want to worry her about something that’s never happened before and won’t likely happen again, but she’s aware there’s more to it. 

Perhaps it’s pettiness. It’s her turn to keep something from Kara. 

When it comes to _why_ Kara didn’t bring a change of clothes, Lena thinks the truth will out, but her former best friend wolfs her explanation down along with the stack of pancakes she’s currently demolishing. 

“Everybody knows pajamas are the most comfortable thing to wear inside the house,” Kara nods judiciously, emptying the last of the maple syrup on what’s left of the pancakes. They’re already practicing the backstroke in the sticky overflow, but she doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Besides I never bring an overnight bag anymore because—” she tapers off into an uncomfortable silence, and casts her eyes down. “Sorry,” she mutters eventually, still not looking up at Lena. “I didn’t mean to bring _that_ up.” Her voice wavers, sorrow peeking through. 

“It’s okay.” Lena stares at the food she barely touched, then at Kara’s hand resting on the table. She’d give anything to link it with hers, but she knows she can’t. 

In the set of rules she gave herself detailing what’s admissible for her to do around Kara, hand-holding falls squarely on the _forbidden_ side of things. If she gave herself a pass, _just this once_ , Lena’s pretty sure that kissing would be next, and it’s quite the slippery slope from there. 

She won’t ruin the friendship they managed to salvage with romantic infatuation. 

“I liked you staying over.” The words spill from her unbidden, and something inside of her chest _crumbles_ , a terrible roaring sound mounting in her ears. It’s the uncontainable noise rushing water makes during a flood, and Lena’s too busy trying not to drown to register Kara’s shocked expression.

“You did?” 

The safest thing, Lena concludes, is answering with another question.

“Want me to give you a ride home?” 

*** 

Weeks go by without incident. 

Lena convinces herself that Kara’s sleep-flying was a one time occurrence and moves on with her life. It doesn’t take a lot of effort anyway. 

Work takes up so much of her time Lena skips three game nights in a row. As for Kara, she’s pretty busy too. First, a work related trip takes her to Metropolis, and the moment she’s back, her attention is taken up by a series of thefts at the DEO. 

They only catch fleeting glances of one another, but one morning Lena walks into her office, bleary-eyed and barely awake, to find it smells _amazing_. A tray of fresh blueberry scones waits for her atop her desk. They come from a bakery in Dublin, and even though there is no card to say who left them, Lena can think of just one person who would go through so much trouble to get one of her favorite foods from across the ocean. There’s two with the means to do it, actually, but she’s pretty positive she’s never been on the list of Clark Kent’s favorite people. 

Certainly, she isn’t now.

She reciprocates with donuts — because what else is she to do? — and her payoff is the photo Nia sends to her via Telegram; Kara with her mouth so full she looks like she’s related to a squirrel and a smattering of powdered sugar on her nose. 

That night, for the first time in three weeks, Lena goes to bed at a reasonable hour, and if she’s not feeling particularly happy, she’s at least in a good mood. 

It’s a wee bit past two in the morning when Kara _smacks_ face-first into her window.

Again. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara's sleep-flying adventures continue. A sleep-deprived Lena goes to Alex searching for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have chapter two - a bit more angsty. Hopefully still funny. 
> 
> \- Dren

The thing about debris after a natural disaster is that they can be cleaned away, but the scars are always visible to those familiar with how the landscape looked before. 

Having Kara crash-land on her couch every night for a week straight feels very similar. 

It’s like that between them now, a ruin with a new coat of pain to hide the cracks. And just the way it happens with a city after an earthquake, how one can tell where the collapsed buildings used to stand years after the fact, Lena can point out the gaping holes in their relationship that the important things between them left behind. For her it’s not the highschool or the coffee corner shop, but linking arms while on a walk, the whispered conversations in the dark. The mutual unburdening, which had been to them as natural as breathing.

There’s nothing left but dust.

What they managed to rebuild isn’t the same. Similar, but warped as though observed through a series of cracked lenses.

Lena watches Kara sleep while she cannot, and wonders why she doesn’t just tell her the truth. 

(“no Kara, we’re not having a movie marathon, you keep flying into my house at night and I don’t know how to stop it. Just like I didn’t know how to prevent you from flying into my heart so many years ago.”)

Lies aren’t the best policy, as she’s learned the hard way. Besides, she’s running out of them, excuses so flimsy in her mouth they taste like cardboard. 

Yet, somehow, it’s easier to bring it up with Alex. 

Walking into the DEO is revisiting a crime scene. Lena still helps out when Alex asks her, but does it from her private lab. Willfully stepping into the place she’s been avoiding so carefully for months, is the same as plunging head first in icy water for a deep dive without proper equipment. It’s a few seconds before the chilling pressure starts to crush her lungs. 

“Wow, you look like shit.” Alex greets, ushering her into her office. 

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Lena sits herself down without waiting for an invitation, hyper aware of the dark bags under her eyes that the few hundred dollars worth of makeup she applied in the morning failed to hide. 

“I didn’t mean—” If things are tentative with Kara, it’s safe to say she and Alex walk on eggshells around one other.

“It’s fine.” Lena’s voice is clipped, devoid of all emotion . She's too tired to care about either. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.” 

That’s the understatement of the year. 

“I’m all ears,” Alex pauses, then adds. “Can I get you anything by the way? Water? Coffee?” 

Yep. _Totally_. Less sleep is exactly what she needs. Lena holds the remark back by the skin of her teeth, and shakes her head. 

“Nothing thanks. As for the reason for my visit—” There’s no easy way to say it, and she knows Alex will shift into big sister mode the moment she mentions Kara’s name. It’s a calculated risk. “I’m here because of Kara.” 

Alex’s reaction is as instantaneous as it is expected. It still hurts Lena to see it. She is aware of what they are to one another. Her friendship with Kara may be on the slow path to recovery, but Alex merely tolerates her for her sister’s sake and makes no mystery of it. The rest of the Superfriends are caught somewhere in between two fires, and Lena doesn’t blame them for sticking closer to the Davers’s side of things. 

She’s already gotten more than she deserves. 

Kara’s name drops between them with the sound of breaking glass, and tension ramps up exponentially. The air is an elastic band that suddenly snaps taut, alive with an undercurrent that could sweep Lena off her feet if she’s not careful. 

There are moments like this between her and Kara too, but with them the temperature rises instead of plummeting. The crackling energy that buzzes through her bones with every accidental touch is like the hum of a live power line fallen to the ground after a storm. Dangerous and charged with what Lena — unwilling as she is to dispose of the emotional piles of trash littering her heart — recognizes as a galvanic discharge of sexual tension. 

With Alex, she’s running across a frozen lake and the ice just gave out under her feet. 

“What about Kara?” Alex’s perfunctory smile winks out, her eyes narrowed and guarded. Her voice is so cold it could put out the flames of Hell itself. 

Lena keeps the explanation short and to the point. She tells Alex all that she remembers about the first night Kara sleep-flew into her home, and then moves on to the past week.

To her credit, Alex doesn’t interrupt. However she’s avoiding Lena’s searching gaze, keeping her head bowed in the futile attempt to hide the distrust Lena easily can read in the way she holds herself. Body angled away from Lena, arms crossed over her chest. 

Before Lena’s momentary madness, they’d been growing closer. Not best friends, but allies in guarding Kara’s back. Lena had let herself think Alex was even starting to like her, but there’s no love lost between them now. Only remnants, their common history a candle that suspicion is quickly snuffing out. 

“Whatever’s causing it, it is neither healthy nor safe,” Lena continues, unable to keep a slight tremor from her voice. “And I’d like my sleep schedule back.”

“You don’t have a sleep schedule.” Alex counters, finally sitting herself down. Lena is glad she’s not doing the looming thing anymore; she had been getting a crick in the neck from staring up.

Besides, the threatening government agent routine hardly works on her after she’s seen Alex trying to stick 20 chicken nuggets into her mouth at once. 

“If I wanted advice on that I’d see my therapist, not you.” 

Alex presses a hand to her temple as though Lena’s tiredness is rubbing off on her too. 

“I suppose you’re right.” She lifts her eyes to Lena then, and they are unreadable. Whatever exhaustion she may feel for their entire situation, she’s locked it away, somewhere out of sight. 

Lena does the same, pushing her regret down, down, _down_ deep in her heart. 

“Kara’s not done what you describe in… oh… it’s been ages. I think senior year?” Alex's tone is neutral, measured, but her hands have tightened on the desk, and Lena notices. She’s worried then, even though she may be playing it cool. “But it went away on its own.”

“After how long?” 

“Couple of months, I think.” 

“And you did _nothing_? What if she had been seen?” 

“Didn’t have red sun lamps then.” Alex’s tone can hardly be called apologetic. “Seemed to only happen in the middle of the night, which helped. Plus she didn’t _float_ around. She just… well, she just hovered.” 

Oh, so fate’s decided Lena is her lucky bitch then. 

“It’s different now,” she stresses, feeling the beginnings of a headache thump against her temples. “National City is always busy, even at night. All it takes is somebody looking up at the wrong time and taking a picture to—” 

“That’s all very well, Lena.” Alex cuts her off mid-sentence, and Lena’s hands begin to itch. She’s never wanted to slap a smile off of somebody’s face this badly. “But I’m gonna need some proof that what you’re saying is true.”

 _Of-fucking-course_.

“You don’t believe me.” She grits out, headache rattling the thoughts inside her skull like dice. She should have expected it, really, but Alex’s remark is salt poured on an infected wound. 

“Well, you haven’t talked to Kara about it, have you?” 

Lena’s jaw clenches so tight she hears the bone crack. 

“Don’t you think, as far as lies go, this is a little too contrived, even for me?” 

“Yeah,” Alex spits the words in her face like venom. “You’re more of the mind control type.” 

She wants to leap across the desk and grab Alex by the collar of her shirt. She wants to tell her that the reason she’s not saying a thing to Kara — which dawned on her just now — is that she’d have to give up the accidental sleepovers. The sense of normalcy they bring. 

She wants to touch Kara so badly. It’s a longing that has settled in her stomach with a weight and a will of its own — the urge to reach out and stroke Kara’s hair while she’s asleep, or run a hand along her spine when she’s resting on her stomach. And Lena knows, she _knows_ , that if she did there is a chance that they may heal, however small. But she’s afraid Kara will pull away, so she just clings to whatever she can have. 

Alex is watching her with a thin, cutting smile that doesn’t reach her eyes and Lena has to sprint out of the office before somebody actually accuses her of murder.

***

She spends several thousand dollars on camera equipment. 

Lena goes all in. Night vision cameras, heat and proximity sensors, body scanners to record Kara’s temperature and heart rate. She has her R&D department develop a motion sensor that will fit her living room windows and open them automatically, but the system turns out to be too sensitive. After her penthouse becomes a popular pigeon destination, Lena benches the idea. There’s a flaw somewhere in the code, which results in the sensors being activated regardless of approaching mass, but she’s too exhausted to figure where the error is. 

Kara shows up so often now that the few nights Lena could spend in relative peace become a source of alarm. She finds herself keeping obsessive watch in the living room, unable to close her eyes for more than a few minutes at a time. She could go back to Alex after the first week and bury her under enough video evidence to shut her up for good, but she decides against it – her reasoning being that the more medical data she collects, the quicker they can get to the bottom of the issue. 

Of course, there’s also the part where they fix whatever’s wrong with Kara and they go back to being near strangers staying her hand. 

Lena does a marvelous job of putting all of it in boxes. She shuts everything – the pain squeezing her chest, the timid overtures happening between her and Kara through large quantities of food, how she frets when Kara fails to appear at her window – down in the lightless basement of her mind and soldiers on. All in the name of science. _Duh_. 

It’s safe to say that many birds and sleepless nights later, her plan is kinda _crap_. 

Her concerns about discovery take a backseat too. While it’s true Kara’s route from her place to Lena’s takes her right over downtown, Lena’s run the numbers, and the chances that somebody will uncover her secret identity this way are, statistically speaking, quite unlikely. 

Provided her sleep-floating keeps happening at night. 

Besides, acquiring a decent data pool requires another week at most. Honestly, Lena’s not sure she’d survive with little to no sleep longer than that. 

Two weeks later, it’s time to waltz back into Alex’s office, a portable hard drive full of video evidence and data in her hands. (Lena does her very best to waltz, but the end result is closer to a zombie shuffle.)

“Here.” She has to make an effort not to throw the drive in Alex’s face. It’s very, _very_ tempting. “The evidence you wanted.” 

“Sit down.” Alex plugs the hard drive into her laptop and leans back in her chair. The vinyl squeals against the leather of her uniform. 

Lena had expected a scathing remark, more accusations. She’d already pulled her shoulder back, planted her feet firmly on the ground in anticipation of the square-off. 

Alex’s unexpected reaction has her blink several times, in the passable impression of a deer caught in headlights.

“ _Lena_.” The chair scrapes back with a teeth-grinding screech, and Alex bounds to her feet, circling the desk. “Sit.” 

Lena wants to tell her she can stuff her false concern where the sun doesn’t shine, but her legs choose that moment to give out, and she flops back into the seat Alex practically shoves under her ass.

“You look even worse than the last time you were here.” A mug of steaming tea is pushed into her hands before Alex sits back down, clicking through the files Lena provided. 

“And it looks like you learned how to be less of a bitch.” 

“Yes, well.” The clicking grows a fraction more aggressive. “If I let you fall on your face I’ll never hear the end of it.” Her eyes flick up, boring holes in Lena’s skull. “The thought has crossed my mind. Believe me.” 

The familiar sound of Kara headbutting Lena’s window fills the small office, and Alex’s face drains of all belligerence. If somebody asked Lena to describe it, she’d call it a _donk_ , the kind of noise one’s knuckles makes when rapping against a hollow object. Whether that’s due to the quality of the window panes or the emptiness of Kara’s head, she’s not ascertained yet. 

Alex gets to the end of the first recording, plays it again. And again. Watches her way through the rest. 

Seeing her expression go through the five stages of disbelief before it determinedly settles on panic is not as satisfying as Lena initially had thought. 

“Has anyone else seen this?”

“Well, Alex, I was thinking of uploading a montage on Tik Tok, but haven’t gotten around it. I was too busy being tired.” 

Alex draws in a breath that seems to last forever, clenches her jaw. Her face is white with poorly disguised anger around the eyes, and her teeth are grinding double time. Lena fancies she can hear the enamel begin to crack. 

“What do you want me to say, Lena?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. Let me think about that a minute.” Lena replies calmly. She places her chin on her palm, elbow on the table, and allows a lazy smile to curve her lips. “ _Lena, you were right and I should have believed you_ would be a good start.” Alex pales further. “I’d love to hear you say you’re sorry for a change, but I realize that’s a bit too much to ask.” 

“I’m not the one who decided the best response to getting hurt was siding with a sociopath.” 

Lena feels her face begin to twist in something like anguish, and bites the inside of her cheek raw. The physical pain dulls the blow. “At least I’m trying to make good on my mistakes. Not sure you can say the same.” 

Alex is truly furious now. She stands, shadow falling across the desk, and Lena sees her hands ball into fists. The older Danvers sister shakes like a leaf in the wind, caught between the urge to strike her and the effort of holding back. 

“Listen, here you—” 

Lena doesn’t get to know what name Alex had been about to call her. The video file on the laptop has circled back to the beginning, and the ringing donk of Kara hitting glass cuts her off. 

“Would you look at us,” Alex gives a short, unpleasant laugh and sits back down. “Maybe we should—”

“Have this fight another time.” Lena interrupts. They both know they’re not done screaming at one another yet, so why pretend? “We can set our differences aside for Kara.” 

“Yes.” There’s a sardonic edge to Alex’s tone, and she’s clearly still quite mad, but the quickness with which she agrees to a truce is a relief. In the wee hours of the morning, when the sky was just a lighter shade of black, Lena would often get stuck thinking of what she’d do if Kara’s sister refused to help even after being shown all the evidence. The fear she’s nursed for many weeks doesn’t go away completely, but knowing she’s not alone in this anymore, makes the weight more bearable. 

“So, how do you want to proceed?”

Alex’s jaw works, but no words come out for a long time. Finally she slumps forward, putting her head in her hands. It’s like anger was the one thing holding her up, and now that it’s subsided, Alex looks nearly as tired as Lena feels. 

“We talk to Kara about it.”

***

They end up doing it together. 

Alex calls Kara into her office as soon as she arrives at the DEO for the evening patrol. Lena can tell she’s trying to not let her worry show, but Kara must have sensed something’s going on, because her eyebrows climb to skyline heights and a wrinkle of concern digs a line between her eyes. The hopefully-reassuring-smile Alex has plastered on her face isn’t helping matters. In fact, it makes her look a little manic.

Kara is so engrossed in the study of her sister’s face she doesn’t notice Lena is standing in the far corner until after she’s sat down in the chair Lena herself had occupied. 

When Lena’s presence registers, Kara’s body jolts as though she stuck her fingers into a power socket. The lines of tension Alex’s behavior etched on her face melt into a timid smile, her eyes performing an awkward dance between Lena’s and the floor. 

“Uhm. Hi Lena.” Kara reaches out without realizing, fingers closing round the edge of Alex’s desk. Her knuckles whiten, the wood splinters, and she ends up with a large chunk of table in her hand. “Oh. _Fudge_.”

“We haven’t even told her yet and I already need a drink.” Alex comments, scooting the chair back with Kara on it so that she’s sitting in the middle of the room and everything is firmly out of reach. Relatively at least. 

Lena brings a hand to her mouth, feigning a cough. Keeps it there until her lips stop twitching; Alex looks like she’s one accident away from handing in her badge.

“Told me what?” The tremble in Kara’s voice shuts her smile down like a kill switch. 

For several minutes, all Lena and Alex can do is stare at one another. 

The air grows heavy and still, Lena’s ears aching with the accumulated pressure. She feels compressed, heart folding beneath pounds and pounds of crushing ice. The emotional avalanche threatens to bury her alive, and Lena has to close her eyes in one last ditch attempt at self defense. Shut the sight of Kara’s hurt face out. She hates seeing her blue eyes cloud and veer to grey, tears swimming right under the surface. The knowledge she’s the one who put that look there feels like a gut punch.

“Alex?” Kara twists around to look her sister in the eye, but Alex’s staring Lena’s way. “Lena? Is it...? Is one of you sick? Oh, my stars that’s it, isn’t it?” 

Lena wonders what sort of reasoning brought Kara to that particular conclusion, opens her mouth to say as much, then catches a glimpse of her reflection in the window behind Alex. 

Night has fallen, darkness pushing against the glass like a living, writhing thing. Her face is a waxen oval emerging from the black. Lena grimaces, and her reflection’s scarlet lips twist in unison with hers. She looks like a dead thing, bloated from being submerged for weeks. 

“Kara, I’m—” She swallows. Tries again. “I’m not s—” 

Kara doesn’t let her finish. She bolts to her feet, and next thing Lena knows is that she’s standing in front of her, hands cupped around her cheeks. 

Lena tries to work some moisture back into her mouth, but her throat is full of sand. Her heart hops against her ribs, making her chest ache. As though Kara’s warm touch on her skin transfigured it into a rabbit. 

She’s lost for words, made helpless by the mélange of emotions that flit through Kara’s face. 

The blue rises up and pulls her under. Lena had forgotten for a time, but Kara’s unexpected closeness serves as a reminder that the Kryptonian is unavoidable to her like the changing of the tide. 

A toneless voice roars with the noise of crashing waves inside her ears. It tells Lena kiss her, shouts other impossible things some of which she’s glad she can’t make out. Lena can’t trust any of it, but she’s so tempted to give in.

“Are you sure you aren’t?” Kara whispers, voice scratchy with emotion. “You look—” 

“It’s okay. You can say it.” Lena is painfully aware of the exhaustion circling her eyes, and the way they burn an all too bright, feverish green. “I look like shit.” 

“No.” Kara’s fingers spasm, hinge around her jaw as if she’s about to close the distance between them with her mouth. “Never.”

The way she looks at Lena — like she’s the one star still burning in the midst of a dead sky. 

Lena cannot take it.

Before the tears she feels stinging at the back of her eyes have a chance to spill, she takes a hasty step back and Kara yanks her hands away like one would after accidentally grabbing a hot pan. 

Alex comes to Lena’s rescue then by pointedly clearing her throat. Better late than never, Lena thinks sourly, shooting her a heated look that gets completely ignored. 

“I’m not sick.” Kara’s answering sniff spells doubt clearer than if she’d been shouting the word from a rooftop. “I’m _not_ !” Patience fraying, Lena points to Alex’s laptop screen, where the recordings of Kara’s nightly activities are ready to be played. “We think _you_ might be.”

“But I feel _fine_ .” Kara stresses about twenty minutes later, reaching for the laptop to start the video one more time. She gets to the part where her face _smacks_ into Lena’s window and freezes the frame, giggling under her breath. 

“Kara, this is _serious_.” Alex grumbles, snatching the laptop away from her. “Focus, please.” 

“I apologize. Yes. Of course, of course.” Kara pushes herself more upright in the chair, tugs at the collar of her suit, runs a hand through her hair. She seems able to hold it together, but then makes the mistake of peeking at the screen again, and the high-res picture of her face squished against the armored glass proves to be too much. Even for her.

“I’m sorry, Alex.” She snorts, shoulders shaking with amusement. “It’s just too funny.”

“It _isn’t_.” Alex thrusts her chin forward with a scowl. “Someone could expose you.” 

“Now that’s odd.” Lena interjects, cold enough to rival a gust of snow laden wind. “I recall you dismissing that same argument not so long ago.” 

“Yes, well.” Alex scratches her nape, clearing her throat again. “I’ve changed my mind.” At least she has the decency to blush, the big, fat hypocrite. 

“I still think it’s hilarious.” Kara mumbles, directing a grin toward her. She’s disturbingly attractive with her hair mussed from recent flight and a twinkle of mischief in her blue eyes. Lena’s ears feel hot, all of a sudden, her palms sweaty. She can’t keep herself from smiling back, and Kara positively beams, Alex all but forgotten for the second time within the hour. 

“Excuse me.” Alex steps in their line of sight, effectively breaking whatever spell bewitched them. “Hello?” She jabs a finger at Lena. “ _You_ look about ready to fall asleep for half a century.” Kara snorts again at that, and Alex rounds on her, picking up steam as she goes. “And _you_ have been sleep-flying over the city nearly every night in the past month. I really don’t see what’s so amusing about all this.” 

Lena schools herself back into a neutral facade, but Kara stares at Alex with a frown of her own, entirely unfazed by her tirade.

There’s an empty chair next to Kara’s, but Lena is content to hang back and witness the proceedings from the dusty corner next to the file cabinet. Putting a measure of physical distance between them helped her regain full control of her brain functions, her thoughts travelling a hundred miles per hour while she watches the two sisters interact.

Come to think of it, Kara’s taken it all rather well. Better than expected frankly. Almost like it wasn’t news to her.

Wait.

“Kara.” Lena forces herself to go sit down in the empty chair, suppressing a wince when her knees bump against Kara’s. “Are you sure you don’t remember getting to my place at all?” 

“No. I already said—” But she’s speaking too quickly, and under Lena’s steady gaze, a flush creeps across her cheeks. “I don’t—” 

“Kara.” Lena’s voice is throatier than she remembers it being a moment ago, and while she tells herself she’s acting to help Kara relax, deep down she knows that’s not the real reason. The truth is written in the uptick of her heart. “It’s really important. Anything you think you remember, however insignificant, may help.”

Kara squirms, eyes glued to a point just over her right shoulders. She fidgets with the wood she tore off of Alex’s desk, crumbling it into fine sawdust. Eventually, she gathers herself enough to meet Lena’s assessing gaze. 

“It’s not like I remember _remember_. It’d be more accurate to say I’m missing time.”

“Memory blanks?” 

“Yeah.” Kara steals a glance at Alex’s face, then her eyes tilt back to the pile of debris at her feet. “I fall asleep in my bed and wake up on your couch. The in between is—” Her shoulders lift into a shrug. “I don’t know what happens then.” 

“And you didn’t think it’d be a good idea to mention it over the weekly physical?” Alex butts in, absolutely enraged. She slams the flat of her hand on the desk, yelping when the aftershocks travel up her arm. “Fuck, Kara that’s not normal!” 

“You think I don’t know that?” Lena doesn’t think she’s ever seen Kara burn this cold. She’s heard what Red Kryptonite can do to her, but never seen it for herself. And anyway this isn’t it. This is sweet, sunny Kara finally fed up with Alex’s control issues. Good for her.

Inwardly, Lena cheers her on. 

“Then why on Earth wouldn’t you say _anything_ to me?” Alex doesn’t seem to care that she’s shouting. Neither does Kara. She takes one step toward her sister, so close they’re almost nose to nose, and the thunder on her face is enough to shut Alex the hell up. 

“Because I—” Kara looks at Lena then, her eyes swimming with anguish. “Because as much as the holes in my memory scared me, they meant I’d wake up on Lena’s couch. And I missed that. I missed that a lot.” 

Oh.

 _Oh_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena and Alex decide to keep Kara under observation for a night. They're in for a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part three! Enjoy! Some angst with a side of snark. 
> 
> \- Dren

They’ve moved to the DEO medical center, but the atmosphere between the two of them is tense. Electric, like the air before a storm breaks loose. It makes Lena’s teeth ache. Her eyes throb in tandem with her heart.

Alex removed herself to the control room adjacent to the testing area with the excuse of setting the sleep recording up, but Lena knows she’s doing her best to avoid another fight. If they’re to help Kara relax enough to sleep, arguing is not in their best interests. 

Not being the target for once should make her feel better — it doesn’t.

“Hey.” She offers Kara a strained smile and pats the empty gurney they set up for her. “I know this doesn’t look all that comfortable, but you should lay down now. We’re pretty much ready to start.” 

Kara pauses mid-pacing and shoots the cot a dubious look. Lena can’t blame her. She’s done her best to make it seem at least a bit appealing, but she’s not sure she’s succeeded. 

“Are you sure we can’t do this in your apartment?” Kara nibbles on her lower lip. Fidgets. Paces round in tighter and tighter circles. “I much prefer the couch.”

“I’m sure.” Lena’s heart feels like a circus. “There’s no way in hell they’ll let me take the necessary equipment out of the DEO, and outsourcing what I’d need for a sleep study would take days, if not weeks. Some of these machines are made to order.” 

“You mean Alex would not let you take them.” 

“Well, uhm—”

The intercom crackles into life.

“Just so you know, I can hear you.” Alex’s tone comes through a bit metallic as if she’s speaking into a tin of sardines, but manages to be cutting enough. Impressive feat, all considering.

“ _Rude_.” Kara whirls around so fast she risks giving herself whiplash, and glares at the half-silvered mirror concealing her sister. “Turn the cameras off.” 

“Kara don’t be—”

“Turn. Them. Off.” A dark shadow tugs at her features, and her eyes brighten the way they do when she’s about to unleash a blast of heat vision. “Now, Alex. Or they burn.” Making good on the warning, Kara tilts her face ceilingward, eyes zeroing in on the camera lenses staring down at them. 

“Kara, please—” 

“You can turn them on when the sleep study starts,” Kara slightly relents, but she tosses the words out coldly enough to suggest she will go through with the threat unless Alex listens. “I’m talking to Lena now, and I want some privacy.” 

There’s a brief pause, and then the red led of the camera winks off. _Thank God_ , Alex hasn’t turned into a complete moron. 

Yet. 

“Better.” Kara nods briskly, her whole body unclenching. “Much better.” 

She walks back to Lena, eyes returned to normal blue. Not that there’s anything ordinary about the blue of Kara’s eyes. Whenever she allows herself to linger on them for more than a handful of seconds, Lena forgets about all the other blue things that exist in the world around her. Summer skies, the Pacific Ocean, the second-hand car she bought with her first paycheck in college. Berry punch freezies (her favorites). 

Only Kara’s eyes matter to her and— 

And Kara’s mouth is moving. She’s speaking to her, but Lena hasn’t heard one single word. 

Fuck. 

“I’m sorry, what were you saying? I think exhaustion is catching up to me.”

If Kara had been oozing anger before, now she radiates concern. Guilt as well, reflected in the sharp downturn of her mouth. 

“It’s my fault.” Alex may have switched the recording off for the time being, but she lowers her voice anyway, eyes darting to the one way mirror before she refocuses on Lena. “If I had spoken up about all this when I first noticed it, you wouldn’t be so tired.”

“Don’t.” Lena shakes her head and instantly regrets it. The room pitches around her, spins, comes to a lurching stop that makes her stomach swell with nausea. Hopefully, while Kara sleeps she can grab some snooze time too.

Alex can handle supervision for a night. 

“It’s not like you’re flinging yourself at my window every night on purpose. Unless you’re a masochist, of course.” She adds, in a weak attempt at humor. 

“No!” The half-hearted joke must sound even worse than Lena thought, because Kara physically recoils, her ears beet-red. “No. I mean — I wouldn’t—” She stops and puts her face in her hands. “I would come to your house through the door, like a normal person.” 

“Exactly. So stop beating yourself up about it. Besides, I might have missed having you around as well.”

A terse silence falls between them and Lena watches the effect of her unbidden confession with a mix of horror and fascination. 

Kara says nothing, but totters to the gurney and plops herself down on it, the flush expanding from the tips of her ears to the rest of her face. 

Lena wants to hide. Sink down into the floor. Possibly melt into sub-molecular sludge so that she doesn’t make a fool of herself ever again. She hadn’t meant to admit she’d missed having Kara sleep over at her place — the slip-up during breakfast the first time had been hard enough to recover from — yet here she is, doing exactly that. 

She couldn’t help it, really. The words had taken up a mind of their own and she could only feel her lips form the statement almost in slow motion. As if all communication between her mouth and her brain had broken down. 

Sat on the narrow cot, Kara dawdles with one edge of the blanket, swinging her legs back and forth like a kid caught with their fingers stuck inside the Nutella jar. She casts Lena stealthy, oblique looks, but their eyes never quite meet. 

The lull in conversation is welcome, if more than a bit awkward. It gives her time to put her thoughts in some semblance of an order, even though she may as well be trying to play Scrabble without vowels. 

Lena can taste the tension, and it’s got the bitter flavor of something that’s spent too long inside the fridge. It reminds her of how comfortable the silences between them used to be. Of the working lunches they had in Lena’s office, sharing their favorite greek food without the need for words. They’d been able to speak to one another with a simple glance, but the skill seems foreign to them now. Lost somewhere in translation. 

It’s too quiet inside the lab, the sanitized air saddled with all the things that have been left unsaid since their latest ugly fight. 

Lena opens her mouth, to say what she’s not completely sure, but her jaws work without making a sound. She can only contemplate the chasm that separates them, and wonder whether they’re still equipped for building bridges. The tension grows, crackles like lightning over the horizon. It buzzes along Lena’s bones and she’s inclined to hop on the gurney and sit next to Kara. 

She almost gives in before remembering she’s not entitled to that safe place anymore. 

And she’s only got herself to blame. 

“So. Uhm.” Maybe Kara’s developed mind reading skills, because she shuffles closer, doing her very best to appear casual about it. “Remember that one time over breakfast when you said you liked having me over? The first time I...uh… bonked against your window?” Of course Lena remembers. She wishes Kara would forget. Why can’t her selective amnesia work when Lena needs it to? 

Kara’s staring at her now, gaze open and vulnerable. Lena’s throat is too full of gravel for her to speak, so she settles for a shaky nod. The flush has U-Hauled from Kara’s face to hers in record time, and her body is tingling with it under her clothes. 

“Did you really mean that?” Kara’s peering directly into her face, blue eyes hopeful. Fearful. Every other emotion in between. 

“Uh. Uh.” Lena manages to croak. Yes, of course, now that she’d need to be articulate she can’t even remember what a dictionary is. Her thoughts spin in circles, and she scans the room, looking for anything that’ll help kickstart her brain back into functioning. 

She’s never liked to feel out of her depth, which seems to have become the state of things when her heart is concerned. 

It’s Alex of all people, who unknowingly lends her a hand.

“I know, I know, privacy.” Her voice hisses through the intercom. She too sounds like she is on her very own dig-a-ditch endeavour. “But at this rate we’ll be running out of night.” 

Kara stiffens, looking as though she’s going to get into another fight, then throws a look at Lena and shrugs in an admittance of defeat. 

“Fine.” She swallows thickly, and Lena knows she ought to hug her and tell her everything will be alright. But knowing what to do and doing it are very different things. “Just let me change into something more comfortable, then you can turn the cameras back on.” 

“This reminds me,” Lena says after the comm clicks off. “Alex said this is your overnight bag?” She pulls a duffle from underneath the gurney and hands it over to Kara.

“Oh, yeah.” Kara blinks down at the bag as though she’s just now remembered its existence. “When my involvement with the DEO became official, we figured it’d be a good idea for me to keep some spare clothes on hand. Didn’t have this back then.” With a subtle shake of her wrist, the supersuit disappears, revealing the civilian clothes she’s wearing underneath. 

“Right.” She really needs to stop feeling disappointment at Kara for wearing clothes. “Of course.” 

“Ah, there we go!” 

While she was having a minor meltdown over her own inappropriate thoughts, Kara’s found a pair of pajamas — Superman themed. 

“Yeah.” Kara catches her frowning down at the design and makes a face. “They don’t make Supergirl merchandise yet. Crazy, right?” 

“Uh-uh.” _God_ , but she’s starting to sound like a broken record. 

“So anyway, I’m gonna change and then you and Alex can put me to sleep, or whatever.” The statement is punctuated by Kara’s nervous laughter, then she starts to pull her shirt off — _right in front of Lena_.

“Yeah, uhm. Absolutely.” She scrambles back so quickly her heels come close to gouging the floor tiles. “I’m just gonna finish setting up the equipment.” Lena gestures vaguely to the array of machines beeping quietly in the corner. Waiting. 

Anything to tear her eyes off of Kara— but she’s not fast enough and glimpses a flash of perfectly smooth collarbone, toned arms flexing as Kara pulls the shirt up over her head. 

Lena’s eyes speed around the room, but none of it is safe or so it feels to her. The one way mirror shows a fleeting image of the swell of Kara’s breasts. The dark screens of the machinery they’ll use for the test reflect her muscle-laddered stomach. 

By the time Kara’s fully changed, Lena is so dehydrated she’d need a full gallon of water to replenish. Something stronger. A full bottle of Balvenie might just do the trick.

“All done!” The note of forced cheerfulness threaded through Kara’s voice isn’t lost to her, and it is enough to sweep her own embarrassment aside. 

Lena returns to the side of the cot to find her changed into those ridiculous pajamas, the clothes she’d been wearing balled up and thrown inside the duffle without care. 

“Okay, If you lie down I’ll—” _Crap_ . She’s completely forgotten she needs to touch Kara in order to attach the sensors. But, surely, she can handle that much. It’s fine, she’s _fine_ and there’s nothing sexual about the way Lena has to undo the first button of Kara’s pajamas to stick one of the disposable electrodes wired to the EKG machine over her heart. 

“Lena?” She freezes with one hand down Kara’s shirt, the sudden fear she can read on her face thrumming through her fingertips. Under her touch, Kara’s heart is racing, the beep-beep of the EKG machine letting Lena know she’s not imagining it. When Kara’s fingers tentatively brush hers, Lena can barely hold herself from squeezing them in return. 

“Yeah?” She says instead, desperately wishing Alex would let impatience overcome her and interrupt again. It doesn’t happen, and she just sighs.

She’s grown used to never getting what she wants. 

_Want_. 

Now there’s a word that’s always been doubled edged for Lena. Mostly because she grew up wanting all the wrong things. The love of her stepmother, praising from her peers. To be worthy of the name she was born into before figuring out what being a Luthor really stood for. 

Not that wanting anything ever did her any _good_. Look at her and Kara. 

Kara, who clears her throat right then, making her jump. 

“Yeah?” She repeats, feeling extremely stupid. “Did you want to ask me something?” She pulls her hand away, slowly, and can breathe a little easier. 

Something — sadness? Longing, maybe? — mists the blue of Kara’s eyes, but it’s gone before Lena can dwell on it too much. Probably better that way anyhow. 

“Well, Alex wasn’t very forthcoming about how all of it works.” Kara points at the bundle of colorful wires unraveling down one side of the cot. “I’m a bit nervous, and having an actual explanation would help, I think.” 

That sounds just about Alex. Lena was going to do her best and be civil for the remainder of the night, but this makes her reconsider. 

She can’t begin to fathom why Alex wouldn’t brief Kara on the kind of tests they’ll run. A sleep study is as non-invasive as can be, and having Kara feel at ease about it is a requirement for its success in Lena’s book. 

Now that she thinks about it, it could be her fault. 

Despite having admitted they should put their differences aside for Kara’s sake, Alex has been giving her the cold shoulder treatment, and the earlier spat she had with Kara has done nothing to improve things. 

“It’s like the physicals they have you go through every other week.” Lena explains as she checks the machines’ settings a final time. “Except you sleep through the entire thing.” 

“You know, I’m not sure I can do that.” Kara pulls the blanket Lena got for her up to her chin, hugs the extra pillow Lena repurposed from the couch inside of Alex’s office. 

Honestly, she’s not surprised. Anyone would be on edge. There’s no disguising the sterile nature of the room. The fluorescents are too bright, everything is white and pristine. Aseptic and cold like the blades of the surgical instruments Lena locked away inside one of the nearby trolley’s drawers. She’s sure Kara has been injured enough times that she has memories connected — if not to this one lab — to one a few doors down from it. 

“Well for starters I can shut the lights.” She inputs the appropriate command string in the computer terminal and the fluorescents immediately switch off. It’s not dark inside the lab, not by a long stretch, but the blinking green and blue leds of the EKG machine are a million times more soothing than neon. “I could also stay until you fall asleep, if you’d like.” 

She’s not sure what compels her into making that offer, exactly. Maybe it’s the white-knuckled hold Kara has on the corner of the blanket. The way she’s worrying at her lower lip, teeth flashing in the semi-dark. The tumble of gold hair falling across her brow, which adds a touch of frazzled to the lost look in her eyes. 

Or guilt. 

Yep, Lena decides, the image of her levelling Kryptonite loaded cannons in Kara’s dumbstruck face zipping through her mind. Definitely guilt.

Kara smiles, relieved, and that’s how she finds herself sitting on a stool next to the bed, and pulling up the book she’s been working her way through — her annual reread of _Pride and Prejudice_ — on her Kindle app. 

“Alex,” she whispers into the intercom, before settling down to read to Kara. “We’re ready to start.” 

The overhead camera whirring into focus is all the acknowledgement she gets. 

Reading Kara to sleep is so close to the things they did together it's enough to bring Lena to tears. She hides it well — at least she thinks she does — and is glad she had the foresight to shut all of the lights off. 

She came to National City to clear her family name, not to make friends, but Kara called her bluff with devastating ease. Lena's always been desperate; for meant affection, love, genuine validation. And now that she's unlearned how to be alone when she needs it most — now that she's without friends again — the emperor is naked.

She doesn’t know how many pages she gets through before Kara’s breath evens out. Before her heart rate slows, and the machine that’s supposed to record the different sleep phases advises Lena she’s heading into a deep form of slumber. 

Eventually, Lena lets her phone screen dim and exits the room on her tiptoes, as silent as a mouse sneaking inside the kitchen of a Michelin star restaurant. 

“She sleepin’?” Alex asks the moment Lena enters the control room, eyes never leaving the array of screens in front of her. Two return the camera feedback, with one of the recordings showing a thermal image of the room. The rest display so much medical data Lena feels the beginning of a headache drum at her temples just glancing at it. 

“Yes. What now?” 

“We wait.” The older Danvers sister nudges an empty chair toward Lena with her foot. “You realize that if nothing happens tonight we’ll have to run the test again, right?” 

“ _You will_ have to run it. I’ll be asleep.” The chair is barely a grade above hard plastic, but Lena makes the best of it and closes her eyes. “In fact I’d like to do so now, so shut up. Please.”

Alex grumbles something uncomplimentary under her breath, but Lena doesn’t really care to know what it is. Her eyes ache, her eyelids are like sandpaper, and she’s so tired all she can do is sink heavily into the chair and let her mind drift. She doesn’t sleep, not really, but the world around her is stripped of detail. Objects lose their edge until what she observes through slitted eyes are brushes of dim light and softer shadow. 

Then, hours later maybe, someone grabs her forearm, jolting her awake. 

“Wha—” 

“Look!” Alex tugs on her arm again, almost pulling her out of the chair. “Look, it’s happening!” 

Lena doesn’t need to _look_ through the mirrored glass to know Kara must be floating toward her. She’s more interested in the screens showing the real time medical data anyhow. Kara’s sleep seems to have entered the REM stage, which fits with the fact she’s been asleep for about 90 minutes. What’s strange is that her body should have locked up to prevent her from acting out while dreaming, but instead she’s started to slowly bob across the lab. Toward her and Alex. 

“Should we do something?” Alex wets her lips, eyes meeting Lena’s briefly before she goes back to staring at her sister. 

“Like what?” Lena’s brows furrow. There’s something in the data that feels different than what she collected from her house, but she can’t pinpoint what it is. May just be the specialized equipment. The sensors she’d used were good, but this is top of the line stuff. “It’s not like she can fly out of a window.” 

As if to prove her point, Kara softly bumps into the one way mirror. Stops and hovers there. Her face is so close to the silvered surface that it fogs up a little. 

“Oh, I know! Red sun lamps!” 

“What? No! She’s gonna—” The lab is bathed in a warm red glow, and Kara crumbles to the floor. “— fall.” 

“Whoops.” 

Idiot. 

They should go in and check on Kara, but Lena is too stunned by Alex’s recklessness to move, the sense of unease growing. Piercing through her lower back like a hot spike and rooting her in place. 

“ _Uh_.” Alex types away on the terminal’s keyboard and the ceiling camera zooms in on Kara’s face. “She’s still asleep.” 

It’s true, Lena realizes. Kara’s not dreaming anymore, but her heart rate is low and steady, and even though she’s running hot that’s not cause for concern. A Kryptonian’s base temperature is several degrees higher than a human’s. 

“This can’t be the solution.” She can easily picture the hamsters inside Alex’s brain running at full speed. “You can’t just make her vulnerable anytime she sleeps.” 

“But—” 

“And she can’t sleep here all the time, Alex. You know that’s not what’s best for her.” 

“Oh really. And what would you know about what’s best for Kara?” Alex crosses her arms over her chest. Her worry over Kara is replaced by irritation. The change is so swift it makes Lena want to laugh, and a parody of mirth does escape her mouth. It bleeds red between them, like the lights inside the room. 

“Who made you the expert, Lena?” Alex kicks her chair out of the way, and takes a threatening step forward. Lena wonders if she’ll go as far as hitting her this time. 

Considering the darkness blackening her eyes, she wouldn’t put it past her. 

They’re interrupted by a scuffling noise, and turn their attention back to the lab to find Kara has climbed on her feet and is actually _sleep-shuffling_ forward, cheek flattened to the mirror. Her mouth gapes open, and a thin line of drool is hanging from her chin, staining the front of her pajama.

“ _Drat_.”

“I was gonna say fuck but that covers it.” Alex is for all intents and purposes at the end of her rope, but the pang of sympathy that flashes through Lena at the realization is short lived. The heated words they exchanged still ring in her ears, the cuts Alex inflicted sting. 

But there’s no time for her self loathing now. She needs to think of Kara. 

“Maybe…” She trails off, frowning at the monitors. “Okay. We could get her back into the gurney without waking her.” 

“Restraints might work.” Alex puts in, already moving to the door. “If we leave the sunlamps on we can tie her to the cot. Get a full night of readings and take it from there.” 

Lena isn’t sure she’s okay with that idea. Kara doesn’t often talk of the time she spent in the Phantom Zone, boxed up and afraid, but she’s mentioned claustrophobia once or twice. 

“We’ll keep close watch.” Alex soothes, sensing her doubt. “And at the first sign of distress we’ll change approach.” 

It’s a sensible strategy, but fear climbs along Lena’s spine like vines, and as they enter the lab she’s clammy with it from head to toe. 

At least, getting Kara back onto the gurney is no problem at all. Much the way it happened in her penthouse, Kara follows her around the room, and when Lena puts her hands on Kara’s shoulders to guide her down, there’s no resistance to speak of. Kara’s body does feel a tad weird, though. Stiff, her movements jerky, like her psyche is out of sync. 

“Alright.” Alex whispers next to her ear, lips barely moving. “I’ll strap her in. Just hold her hand or something.” 

Lena obeys without thinking. Folds Kara’s hand in her cool palms. Strokes her knuckles. Kara mutters something intelligible, fingers twitching against Lena’s. 

“Done.” Alex announces with a nudge to her ribs. “Let’s go back into the control room.” When she doesn’t immediately follow, Alex elbows her again. Hard enough to leave a bruise. “Do you want a written invite?” 

“No.” Lena snarls back, thumb running across the back of the back of Kara’s hand before she reluctantly lets go. “I’m coming.” 

They’ve just made it back to the console when the machines start beeping all at once. 

“What the hell?” She has to raise her voice to be heard over the din, but Alex shakes her head at her, absolutely bewildered. 

“I don’t know!” Back inside the lab, Kara starts trashing. “It looks like a seizure but the parameters are fine! Look for yourself!” 

Lena does. Alex is right. 

“отпусти меня!” Kara shouts, and one of the restraints tying her to the gurney snaps. “отпусти меня!” Even without her powers, she’s strong enough to tear herself loose. 

“What… What is she saying?” 

“Let me go.” The fear mounts inside her. Black tar that fills her lungs and suffocates her. Lena can scarcely talk. “Release me. Let me go.” 

" _Лена_!"

With a gunshot bang of tortured plastic the gurney just gives up, and Kara flings herself across the lab, coming to a stop right in front of the one way glass. If not for the red sun lamps dampening her powers, she could be tearing through it. Or melting it back into sand with her heat vision. 

Instead, Kara raises her fists to it.

" _Лена_!" Her voice is so full of grief that Lena takes a step toward the door, with every intention to dart back inside the test room. Before she can take a second, Alex grabs her by both arms and shoves her back, eyes round with terror. 

“You can’t!” She yells over the shrill _beep-beep_ of the EKG machine. Kara ripped the electrodes off when she freed herself from the gurney and the stupid thing is telling them that she flatlined. Lena slams her hand down on the nearest keyboard, and the beeping is cut off. 

“I don’t know what’s happening Lena, but you can’t go back in there!” 

“Alex, move out of my way or I swear to God I’m going to hurt you.”

" _Лена_!"

Kara's jaws stretch wide, a wordless, endless scream roaring from her chest. Her eyes are open too, but beneath their ice blue surface nobody’s home.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite Alex's warnings Lena rushes into the lab to try and help Kara. A change of strategy is required.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Кара. Все будет хорошо : Kara, everything will be fine.

“You can’t go in there.” Alex repeats for the third time in as many minutes.

“Watch me.” Lena shoulders past her roughly, reaching for the door that separates them from the lab’s interior. She’s determined to yank it open whether Alex likes it or not. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,  _ wait _ !” This time Alex doesn’t grab her. Instead, she throws herself bodily at the door, holding it shut with her weight. “Will you stop thinking with your heart and be fucking rational for a minute?” 

She’s not. She doesn’t  _ care _ , one way or another. Lena just wants a semi-regular sleep pattern back. 

“I can’t believe you.” Behind them Kara’s still banging against the glass, empty-eyed and sobbing. Lena does her best to ignore the noise, the garbled pleas in russian. Her name, wailed over and over. “What do you want me to wait for? At the rate she’s going, she’ll hurt herself!” Lena hates how scared her voice sounds, even to her own ears. She tries to wrap herself in the apathy that has been her shield for months, but it doesn’t numb her anymore. She has to swallow to keep her lips from trembling.

“And if you go in there unprepared, she may very well hurt  _ you _ !” Alex jabs a finger squarely in the middle of her chest. It sends her back a step. “And you know she’d never forgive herself for it!” 

That gives Lena pause, and Alex seizes the opportunity to back her further away from the door. 

“Listen, we have tranquilizer darts in the armory. We stocked them after the Red-K incident in case…” She grimaces. “It doesn’t matter. We get her to calm down and then figure out what the hell’s going on.” 

“Alex—” 

“I don’t like the idea of shooting her with one either, believe me.” The anguish in Alex’s eyes, and the tremor in her voice convince Lena to trust her. After all, it’s Kara, her  _ sister _ , they’re talking about. 

“Okay.” On the other side of the mirrored glass, Kara screams her name again. Her voice is raw with something Lena can only name as anguish. It’s the bottomless despair she felt the day Andrea betrayed her. The same taste of ashes on her tongue of when Kara did the same, after years and years of friendship. It rips at Lena from the inside, worries at her bones like a pack of famished dogs until all that she feels is chewed and spat back out. Insignificant. “You go get what you need to get.” She says, paying Alex only half a mind. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things.” 

She’s back at the console, reaching for the glass before she knows what she’s doing. 

It’s cool against her hand, cold enough that goosebumps radiate from her palm up the rest of her arm. 

Even if she were awake, Kara cannot see her — neither she nor Alex have touched the button that would turn the reactive silver inside the glass transparent — but the banging stops. Almost like she can feel Lena’s presence inches away from her. 

Kara’s eyes drill into the glass as if she can see through it, and her hand touches the same spot Lena’s pressed against. And yet, somehow, she’s still sleeping through — whatever this is. 

“You do that.” Alex says at her back, and Lena doesn’t need to see her to know that she’s shaking. Something rattles in her hand. Keys, maybe. “I’ll be right back.”

The armory is one floor above the medical center, but it’ll be only a few minutes before Alex gets back. 

After she hears her slip away, Lena counts to ten in her mind, and then, when she’s sure that Kara’s sister is too far to intervene, she darts back into the lab and locks herself in there with Kara. 

She moves as quietly as she can, shucking off her heels the moment the door clicks shut behind her. The floor is even colder than the silvered glass had been, and Lena’s toes curl in protest against the tile. 

“ _ Кара _ .  _ Все будет хорошо.” _ Lena’s russian is rudimentary at best, but Lillian had insisted that she learn some, along with Chinese. Good for business she’d said, and for once, Lena has a reason to thank her. 

She discovers rather quickly she doesn’t need much of a vocabulary anyhow. 

Kara’s eyes snap to her face even before she’s done speaking, and she leans in like a dog scenting prey on the wind. Lena has a split second of warning; a moment to brace herself before Kara barrels into her. Her stockinged feet slip and she falls down, air  _ whooshing  _ out of her chest when Kara lands right on top of her. 

“ _ Лена.”  _ Distress has lifted off of Kara’s voice. She mutters something else, words garbled, dragging sleepily, and nuzzles into Lena’s neck. Against her cheek. Along her jaw. She settles on top of Lena firmly, the human version of a blanket, a satisfied exhale snuffled into Lena’s hair. 

Beneath her, vertebrae uncomfortably pushed into the grouting between two tiles, Lena lies completely still. She dares not move, breathes as shallow as she can, every minute shift of Kara’s body sending sparks arcing through her skin. 

That’s how Alex finds them when she bursts back inside the control room — Lena pats herself on the back for having had the foresight of powering off the mirror’s reactive silver before leaving. She wouldn’t want to miss the spectacle of Alex’s face for the world.

If their positions were reversed, she’d probably laugh. As it is, she has to chew the bout of nervous laughter down, shoulders tensing in silent mirth when Alex mouths a soundless  _ what the fuck? _ through the now transparent mirror.

On top of her Kara shifts again, snuggling until one of her ears is pressed against Lena’s breastbone, on the spot where the beating of her heart would echo loudest. 

And for Lena, who seldom acts with any degree of casualness, putting her arms around Kara feels like the natural, logical course of action. 

“Alex,” she mouth-whispers back, ignoring the scowl directed her way — it promises retribution. “I think she’s listening to my heart.” 

***

Morning announces itself in the form of Alex overriding the lock to the lab. 

Lena's been slipping in and out of sleep, so tired that even lying on a cold floor all night couldn’t keep her from it. Not completely.

With every ache and small bruise she acquired overnight flaring through her nervous system all at once, Lena begins to question her choices. At least she does until she peers down into Kara’s peaceful face. Her brows are creased, and her nose is scrunched up against the curve of Lena’s breast. Her heart forgets what it means to beat and she reconsiders. 

“I brought breakfast.” Alex is backing into the lab, a tray balanced in both hands. Lena expects a selection of the DEO cafeteria flavorless breakfast items — their vegan sausage patties have the same consistency of a hockey puck — but spots a Noonan’s branded coffee cup and is pleasantly surprised. 

“Wait.” She frowns, pushing up on one elbow and trying not to jostle Kara. “You could have unlocked the door at any time?” 

“Yep.” Alex sets the tray down on an empty desk, busying herself with the food on it. Lena can’t see her face, but she’s got the sense Alex is grinning. “But since you never listen to me I figured I could leave you there. And Kara seemed comfortable enough.”

“Asshole.” Lena counters without any real heat. 

The smell of food is succeeding where their exchange failed. Kara is stirring, stretching against her, arms tightening around her waist into a sleep-induced,  _ good morning _ hug. 

Then, brain catching up to her body, she realizes  _ who  _ she’s rubbing up against, and rolls off of her as though Lena is a piece of burning coal. 

“Oh,  _ Rao _ .” Lena’s pang of disappointment over the loss of contact is replaced by sharp relief. They’ve got their usual Kara back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to— to—” She can’t finish. Sputters. Changes course. “Why were we on the floor anyway?” Her cheeks, Lena notices, are the loveliest shade of pink. She has to dig manicured nails into her thigh to keep herself from brushing her knuckles over the blush, just to find out how warm Kara’s skin would be against hers. 

“You don’t remember?” Alex is handing Kara a cup of coffee. She took off the lid to add milk and enough sugar to give tooth rot to a small european country, and is thus too distracted to be affected by the scowl Lena throws her way. 

Of course they need to tell Kara what happened, but Alex isn’t the most tactful person when she’s tense. And Lena can tell from the careful way Kara’s sister is stirring a second cup of coffee, movements too taut, too precise, that she’s dangerously close to snapping. 

“Maybe it’d be best if we all have something in our stomach before we get to that, don’t you think?” She takes pains not to come off as bossy as she feels, and it pays off. Alex’s eyes flicker to hers, then she sighs and nods, some of the strain leaving her shoulders.

In the end, while Kara gently helps her up, Alex runs back to the control room to get two extra chairs. 

It’s an awkward dance between them. In the places where Kara’s body moulded to hers in her sleep, Lena’s skin still tingles. It’s distracting, and the fleeting looks Kara shoots her way when she thinks Lena isn’t paying her any mind don’t really help. 

Food offers her a chance to rearrange her thoughts. All of them are starving and a good chunk of breakfast is spent digging through their plates — a veggie omelette and toasted bagel in Lena’s case — while studiously avoiding one another’s general direction. 

“So,” Kara says eventually, scraping crumbs of sausage off her plate with a piece of toast. “Do either of you want to tell me what happened now, or…?” 

“You didn’t hurt anybody, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Lena answers, just as Alex is opening her mouth. Kara slumps in her chair, even smiles a little. Her relief is palpable. 

The sight is like a hot knife twisting in Lena’s gut. It hurts that despite everything that happened between them, she still knows Kara well enough to rightly guess her primary concern. Makes her mourn for everything she threw away.

“That doesn’t answer my other question, thought.” Kara is eyeing what’s left of Lena’s breakfast, which isn’t much really, so she nudges the plate in her direction. “Why did we wake up on the floor?” 

“Are you going to tell her about the fact she channeled knock-off Rasputin, or should I?” 

Kara gasps. Brings a hand to her mouth, wincing when she knocks over her coffee. Her eyes have gone as round as the half bagel that sits forgotten on the paper plate, and she looks vulnerable. A breath away from bursting into tears.

“ _ Alex _ !” Lena hisses between gritted teeth. “A bit more gently if you could?” God, but how can she be dating a therapist without it rubbing off on her a little where it counts. 

“What? I was just trying to—  _ ow _ !” Alex’s leg jerks back and she bends down to soothe her bruised shin. “What was  _ that _ for?”

Without replying, Lena cocks her head toward Kara.

“Oh.” 

Kara’s eyes are fixed on a crack on the far wall. She’s not crying yet, but the blue of her eyes is wet with unshed tears. 

“Come on. Alex can clean up while we talk things out.” Surprising herself, Lena reaches out, fingers closing around Kara’s hand. She keeps her touch light — an ugly, purpling bruise spans Kara’s knuckles, paling to brown on the back of her hand. It’s the hand she punched the mirror with overnight. 

Kara’s skin is cold against hers, and subtle tremors are racing down her spine. The last thing they need now, is her slipping into shock. “Come on, darling.” Lena ignores Alex’s stunned look. She’s painfully aware of how affectionate she sounds, doesn’t want to dwell on what it means. “Let me help you out.” 

***

“I don’t think I can access her memories when I’m awake.” 

Kara speaks up suddenly, making her jump. 

They’re in the Director’s private bathroom, a cushy contrast to the sterile efficiency of the labs three floors below. Lena’s been holding Kara’s bruised hand under a steady jet of cold water for several minutes, and Kara’s let her. Meek as a lamb. 

“What about your dreams?” She shuts the water off, and grabbing a soft-looking towel from the nearby rack, pats Kara’s hand dry. “Do you see a first aid kit anywhere? We should put some cream on it.” 

Out of the light of the red sun lamps, the bruise will heal on its own — a couple of hours at most — but doing something tangible for Kara is making  _ her _ feel better. 

“Flashes sometimes.” Kara’s brows are knit in concentration. “It’s not images exactly. More like emotions.” She points to a spot behind Lena. “First aid kit is over there.” She could tell Lena that fussing over her hand is a waste of time, but doesn’t. As though she’s drawing comfort from their contact. Lena can’t fault her. She wouldn’t admit to it aloud, but feels the same. 

“There.” Several layers of cream later, certainly more than strictly necessary, Lena lets go of Kara’s hand with a small nod of satisfaction. “I know you’re already healing but—” 

The rest of what she means to say flees her mouth in a strangled whine. Kara’s uninjured hand is cupping her cheek. She’s so close Lena can smell the hint of coffee on her breath, feel the animal heat of Kara’s mouth inches away from hers. “Thank you.” The low, somewhat growly timbre is causing unknown chemical reactions inside of Lena’s heart. She hopes that it won’t burst, but with the hurried way it’s beating it just might.

“You’re— uh— welcome.” Her own voice is breathy, all too high.

“If you two are done eyefucking each other, I think we need to talk.” 

Kara jumps back, head whipping around, but there’s nobody else in the bathroom. 

“We were not— how?” 

“There’s cameras  _ everywhere _ . I once again remind you I can  _ see _ you.” Lena searches every inch of wall, but cannot find evidence of one. Nor see the intercom Alex is using to speak with them. 

“Perv.” Kara grumbles under her breath, but her sister already disconnected. “A paranoid perv.” 

“It’s a government facility.” With a sigh, Lena pushes open the door. “Are you surprised?” 

***

That’s how she ends up inside Alex’s office, a fresh cup of coffee in her hands, learning how close she’d been to discover Kara’s true identity when they were in Kaznia. 

It should sting. It does, a little, but not as much as Lena thought it would. Maybe she’s too tired to feel any real hurt over yet another lie. 

Or, more likely, she looks at the bridge they’ve begun to build and decides the petty pleasure of a fire is too fleeting to be worth anything at all. 

“She was weirdly taken with you.” Kara is saying. 

Contrary to her, she’s not accepted a second cup of coffee. She’s declined to sit down too, and is making vigorous use of Alex’s small office. Pacing. Restless. Tugging at her fingers every time her eyes land on Lena. 

“I’d say obsessed even. She had an entire wall of pictures of you. With me, with the others. Some were—” Kara cuts off abruptly. Her face is splotched with color, but Lena cannot tell whether the red is due to anger or to shame. 

“Some were what, Kara?” 

“Some pictures of you and me… she… she’d cut my face out and put hers in.” 

Well that’s—

“That’s creepy.” Alex butts in, and if she thought she’d get away with it, Lena would strangle her. “It’s really—” 

“So you went back and destroyed it all because?” She chooses the high road, and turns back to Kara with what she hopes is an encouraging smile. 

“Well, I thought she meant to hurt you through me. Or those behind her would.” It’s by a stroke of luck Kara’s not wearing her glasses. If she were, she’d have crumbled them into dust long before now with the way she can’t stop fidgeting. 

“And you thought that if I saw the pictures I would figure out that you were Supergirl.” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay.” 

“Aren’t you mad?” Deflating all at once, Kara finally sits down. 

“Do you want me to be?” Lena leans back into her chair, even though she wants to do the opposite. “You seem pretty beat up about it on your own.” 

“No.” Kara hangs her head. She couldn’t look more like a sad puppy if she tried. “I don’t want you to be mad at me. Ever again.” The last is said so softly, Lena doubts it reaches halfway to Alex’s ears. Good. There’s more words, reflected in the stormy blue of Kara’s eyes, but Lena knows they’re for her only. 

When the time comes. 

“This is all very touching, but we’re wasting time.” Alex slams a drawer shut, a bit irritably. Her face is hollowed from lack of sleep, her eyes sunken. Lena has to remind herself that Alex is probably worried sick for Kara. She just sucks at dealing with her emotions like the rest of them. 

The lone picture on her desk, a group photo they took one of the first times Lena had been over for Game Night, falls face down when the wooden surface rattles. “As much as I wish it would, early morning sappiness doesn’t solve our problems.” 

On second thought. 

Someday soon Alex’s body will turn up in a dark alley. Or get caught on a fishing net outside National City harbor. Maybe Lena will pay somebody to garrote her. Close and messy and personal. She entertains herself with gorier and gorier scenarios, then once she’s sure her inner calm’s restored, she clears her throat to get the others’ attention. 

“I think,” Lena begins, smugness dripping into her tone, “I think I have a plan.” 

***

“Are you sure it’s going to work?” 

“No.” It’s Lena’s turn on the gurney, and it’s fucking uncomfortable. “But it’s the only idea I’ve got.” She pitches her voice to the lowest whisper, throwing one meaningful glance to the mirrored glass Alex sits behind. “I’m pretty sure the sound of my heartbeat is what got you to calm down last night, so maybe a recording to listen to when you fall asleep will keep you from...well, from floating to me.” And if it doesn’t work they’ll know for sure that Kara’s sleep-floating isn’t random. That, for some reason Lena can’t begin to understand, Kara gravitates into her orbit when she sleeps.

“I used to listen to it, you know.” Kara admits slowly, eyes glued to the floor. She’s sitting on the same stool Lena occupied the night before, and there’s an undisputable level of irony in their positions being reversed. “Before.. you know. Just to make sure you were alright.” 

“And you don’t do that anymore?” She’s forced to blink several times to clear the veil of sadness that’s fallen, quite unexpectedly, across her eyes. 

“I don’t feel like I have the right to.” 

_ But you can, if you want to _ . Lena almost tells her, but it’s too much too soon. There’s enough on their plate as it is, without adding her own emotional turmoil to the mix. 

Next to her, the EKG machine beeps a fast if steady rhythm that will never do. 

Lena closes her eyes, fills her mind with images that are supposed to calm her. Sunset on the beach with the waves lapping at her bare feet. The hush and gentle rustle of a forest. Kara, naked body gliding against hers, one hand between her— 

_ Shit _ . 

“Sorry, sorry.” Lena stammers, when the machine beeps quicker instead of slowing down. “I know. I need to relax.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Kara asks, quietly. It’s obvious that she’d rather not.

“No!” It comes off too loud, too forceful, but Lena can’t help it. She’s not the one with ghosts inside her head, but is scared nonetheless. “It’s just…” She gestures at the room around her. “Doesn’t really put me in the mood, you know?” It’s not just how the room looks, but how it smells too. Lena doesn’t need superpowers to pick out the burning scent of disinfectant. It makes her want to rub her eyes and cough. 

“Yeah.” Kara scoots her stool a little closer, eyes dropping to one of Lena’s hands. “Maybe I can hold your hand for a while? See if that helps?” 

“You’ll have to let me go once my heart is slow enough for a recording,” Lena cautions, fingers extending to grasp Kara’s before she has time to think things through. “But I’d like that. I always liked you holding my hand.” Not always. Not at the start.

Kara’s thumb traces circles on the back of her hand, and Lena lets herself sink down into the gurney. 

“I did always like that too.” Kara’s lips move against her ear, and it’s the softest tone Lena’s heard her use in a long, long time. “I still like that a lot.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara spends a night at Lena's, and there are consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Любимая моя - my darling, my only love  
> пожалуйста: Please  
> да: yes
> 
> They're gay, they're idiots, I'm stocked I get to use what Russian I know.  
> Slightly E rated at the beginning of the chapter.  
> \- Dren
> 
> PS: had an issue with the formatting on my end of things and it wasn't fixable via edit. This is a reupload - apologies for any inconvenience.

Lena passes her own “test” with flying colors. 

It’s not a test really, but her heartbeat gets successfully recorded. She’s distantly aware of the EKG’s machine slowing, of the rustle coming from her side when Kara stands to leave, but she’s just so _tired_ , and even though the gurney isn’t remotely related to the memory foam mattress back at home, she falls asleep. 

She wakes up with something warm and soft pressed into her side. When she cracks open one eye, Lena finds that Kara somehow managed to cram herself on the gurney as well, one leg thrown possessively over hers. 

“How long have I been asleep?” She asks, blinking the room back into focus. Details flicker, objects change, as though she’s in two places at once.

“A few hours.” Careful fingers move errant strands of hair away from her eyes, Kara’s lips soft against the corner of her mouth. “You were very tired, yes?” 

“I was.” Lena sighs in agreement, turning her head to catch Kara’s lips more fully. 

Without hesitation, Kara kisses her, slow but fervent. Hungry. Lena’s brain shuts down, unable to parse anything beyond the softness of Kara’s lips on hers, the heat of their breaths mingling. 

The kiss deepens, Kara’s tongue licking into her mouth with practiced confidence, teeth catching Lena’s lower lip and tugging just enough to make it ache, and the spark of strangeness she’d felt at the brush of mouth against mouth is extinguished. 

Of course Kara kisses her like this whenever Lena wakes up in her arms. It’s what they _do_. And it’s just as natural to feel Kara disentangle, thigh shifting to part Lena’s, one hand dropping down, precipitously close to the edge of her panties. The fabric already clings to Lena’s slit, and as Kara breaks away from the kiss to look into her eyes, she gushes more. 

“Please,” she breathes, already melting with anticipatory heat. “Yes.” 

Kara’s eyes are a paler blue than usual, reminding Lena of siberian latitudes whenever the light hits them just so. At her consent they soften, darken, and the hunger she felt simmer under the surface of their kiss transfers there, bursting into flames. 

She expects that Kara’s fingers will dip inside her underwear, and at the thought of feeling her slip through the mess she helped create Lena moans, low in her throat. 

Instead, Kara surprises her. She strokes along her dripping slit, yes, parts her for further exploration, but does so through the silk of Lena’s underwear, using it to tease. 

Lena would have thought that having a barrier between them would detract from the experience but it doesn’t. It takes only a few minutes — Kara moves at leisure, dipping in but retracting everytime she rips a noise from Lena’s mouth — for Lena to feel her body grow taut. She’s wound up, ready to break apart the instant Kara’s lazy circling of her clit hastens.

“Please,” she whimpers, grabbing at her hair, her shoulders. Her back — anywhere that she can reach.

“ _Любимая моя_ ” Kara says, licking a wet strip from Lena’s collarbone up to her earlobe. Between Lena’s legs her fingers still, drop away from her straining clit to focus lower. Tug her soaked-through panties to the side and plunge, slow and deep, deep, _deep_ , inside her pulsing cunt. Lena tenses under her hand. Bucks hard. Cries out, startled by the vehemence of her own release. 

“ _Любимая моя_ ” Kara whispers again, before she delicately sucks her earlobe into her mouth. “ _Любимая моя_ ”

And it dawns on Lena then, that they’ve been speaking russian the entire time.

She gasps awake, thirsty and disoriented, sitting up so fast she risks falling off the narrow cot face-first. 

“Whoa there. Easy.”

Kara is there, just like she was in what Lena now realizes had been a dream, but is sitting _by_ the cot, not curled up on it with her. Not making her come.

Lena feels sick with disappointment and disgusted with herself. She tries to get up, to put a small amount of distance between the two of them, but her legs refuse to work, made into Jell-o by her wet dream, and she falls back down on the gurney.

Speaking of _wet_. 

Lena shifts, gasps. Becomes aware of the damp patch between her legs and her heartbeat hitches up again. Surely, Kara’s smelling her. She definitely — 

“Hey, just breathe for a second, okay?” Kara’s hands are on her shoulders gentle as ever, steadying her. “You fell asleep and Alex said to let you rest.” A glass of water, beady with condensation, is pushed into her hands. “Here, I think you need this.”

So, maybe Kara hasn’t smelled her lingering arousal then. Or she’s playing the part of the consummated actor, the same way she did when pretending she and Supergirl were two different people. The side of Lena that sometimes still feels resentful wouldn’t put it past her, but one look at Kara’s face is enough to tell her that, no, Kara’s simply _that_ oblivious.

A semblance of calm returns.

“Thanks.” 

Water’s never tasted this good, Lena thinks as she takes first a sip and then a big gulp, but perhaps it’s because it feels like something died right on her tongue. 

Kara’s other hand is still resting on her shoulder, and without thinking, Lena leans into the familiar warmth, allowing it to ground her. It’s something they used to do for one another, that came easily to them when their friendship had been in its prime. It’s always been Kara’s thing, the constant need for touching. It’s how she expresses most of her emotions. 

The concept had been so foreign to Lena in the beginning, her instinctual reaction was rejection. Having been touched starved for most of her life, she hadn’t known how to let herself be the object of such open affection. The awful way things had ended with Andrea, where she had lost not just a lover but her best friend, had seeded her with doubt, and when Kara first came along, the broken creature that hid inside her chest had screamed in warning. 

For being so nice, Kara must surely want something in return. 

That was the language Lena understood. The one Kara spoke instead – the Game Night invites, the spur of the moment lunches, grabbing for her hand whenever she spotted a new restaurant (or a dog in any shape or form) – that might as well have been ancient Assyrian.

She’d gotten it down eventually, and now the vocabulary of gestures is written in her muscle memory, resurfacing when Lena least expects it to. 

She makes to pull away, apologize, but Kara’s fingers tighten, her expression pleading. Something tremulous lurks in Kara’s eyes, and Lena remembers what she’s going through. Feeling like she’s losing control over her powers, as benign as everything’s been so far, must be like having the ground yanked from under your feet. And now, added to that, there’s the terror of realizing someone else may be living inside her skull rent free. 

Perhaps, they both need human contact right about now. And to talk more, but preferably somewhere away from Alex.

“It’ll be okay.” Lena reaches up, placing her own hand over Kara’s. “We’ll figure out what’s happening.” 

Kara nods, but before she can say anything the door opens, Alex walking toward them with her nose buried in paperwork. 

They come apart quickly, as though she caught them making out, but not before Lena’s knuckles brush down Kara’s arm. Her eyes are on Alex, but Lena doesn’t miss the soft intake of breath coming from her.

“I’m sorry you lost so much of your day, Lena.” Alex begins, strangely subdued. Her change of attitude is surprising, but not unwelcome. Lena throws Kara a thoughtful look, wondering whether words had been exchanged between the two sisters while she was asleep. 

Sensing that she’s being stared at, Kara shifts, eyes flicking to hers before she drops them to the floor at her feet. The shadow of a smile is tugging at her face, and even though she doesn’t seem aware of it, she’s faintly blushing. 

Lena owes her a thank you. Later. In private. 

“Don’t worry about it.” She replies quietly. “I’d let my assistant know I might be unavailable today.” When Alex frowns, she shrugs. “Had a feeling things could get… complicated. Call it a hunch.” As if anything is ever easy when she and Kara are involved.

“Okay.” Alex sifts through the papers, before offering them to Lena.” Here’s the printout of the readings from last night. Now that we have a recording of your heart beat on file we can try to have Kara listen to that next time she sleeps and see whether that helps.” 

Lena takes the documents, but only listens with half an ear. Alex is too caught up in her own words to see the way Kara slinks away at the mention of more testing. One look at her slumped shoulders is enough for Lena to know that Kara isn’t remotely _fine_. Certainly not in the shape to go through another test so soon. A kind of exhaustion that has nothing to do with erratic sleep is carved into every inch of her. It weighs her down like a block of cement tied around her neck. 

“Alex,” Lena cuts off firmly. “Do you think this could wait? A day or two, at most,” she adds when Alex is about to object. “Even just a night. Kara could stay over at my place. If she doesn’t fly around while she’s asleep that still proves my point, and after we can use the recording in a safe environment.” 

“Are you sure?” Alex looks from her to Kara doubtfully, but seems to be at least considering the option, especially when she meets Kara’s eyes and notes how glassy they appear. “I guess…Oh, fine. We can jury rig some portable red sun lamps for you to bring home just in case. But you’ll have to return them.” 

Lena refrains from pointing out she could build her own, and better ones, without the DEO. 

“Obviously. It’s government property. Actually, if there’s anything you need me to sign, like a temporary lease…” 

When the tips of Alex’s ears burn red, she has to bite her tongue to hide a smile.

“That won’t be necessary.” Alex waves the words away with her hand. “And you’re free to keep those to read through at your leisure. They’re copies.” She nods to the medical reports still in Lena’s hands. “Maybe you’ll see something I haven’t.” 

Her clipped tone says she doesn’t expect Lena to. 

***

“Passive aggressive remarks are an improvement, don’t you think?” She comments to Kara once they’re alone again, waiting for Alex to drive around front and pick them up. 

The plan is to drive over to Kara’s place first so that she can pick up toiletries and whatever else she’ll need to spend the night at Lena’s, then hunker down inside the penthouse, set up the red sun lamps and try to go through what’s left of the day normally. 

“I’m sorry Alex’s being like that.” Kara is as ready as ever to shoulder blame that isn’t hers. “I think she can’t fully accept that I’ve moved past what happened with Non Nocere. Your help against Leviathan balances that out. And I _trust_ you again. She can’t.” 

It’s hard for Lena to ignore how her heart expands as the word trust drops from Kara’s lips in relation to her. Aloud she says:

“Let’s forget about Alex for a while, okay? I think me and her aren’t done talking things through, but that’s not something you can help with I’m afraid. Although,” And she brushes her knuckles against the back of Kara’s hand then, “I appreciate you talking to her.” 

Another blush takes over Kara’s cheeks, confirming her suspicions. 

“I just told her she needs to accept that I decided to forgive you. And that she should make up her mind about how she feels, because coming to you for help and then treating you like crap isn’t fair to you.”

“That’s sweet, darling.” Lena truly means it too, and Kara stands a little straighter. “But this time I came to her, not the other way around.”

“Whatever.” She’s glad to see Kara look more animated. Some of her acuity seems to have returned. “Doesn’t change the fact you’re trying to help.” 

An unmarked van rolls up to them, Alex at the wheel. 

“Hop on.” The passenger door opens automatically with a hiss of hydraulics when they approach. “Lamps are loaded in the back. They’re a prototype and not powerful enough to completely cancel Kara’s powers out, but at least she won’t be flying anywhere tonight.” 

They climb inside the van, Kara naturally taking the middle seat as if to act like a physical barrier between them. Alex’s eyebrows lift at that, but thankfully, she doesn’t remark on it.

Outside it’s sunny, the bright gold of the early afternoon glinting off the chrome of the cars they come across on their way into downtown. Traffic is light, rush hour still some time away. It’s not too bad as far as trips go, even pleasant when Kara fidgets with the radio, setting it to some classic rock station. 

When they get to Kara’s apartment, Lena steps out of the van with her, meaning to help her carry whatever she needs. 

“I can manage,” Kara reassures her with a smile. “Just try not to kill each other while I’m gone.” 

“No promises.” Alex calls from behind the wheel, but when Lena scrambles into the middle seat, still warm from Kara’s body, a fight looks like the furthest thing from her mind. 

“You sure you’re going to be okay alone with her tonight?” She asks as they watch Kara disappear inside her apartment building. Alex goes as far as to put a hand on Lena’s forearm when she asks, and Lena suspects it’s to reassure herself as much as to try and comfort her. “When she started banging on the glass… Lena you looked terrified. You don’t have to do this alone. I can stay, or maybe ask Kelly to come over.” 

“Are you worried for me, Director Danvers?” Lena’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s being a bitch, but it’s not like Alex doesn’t deserve it.

“Yes. _No!_ Maybe it’s a waste of effort.” Alex grits her teeth, breathes deeply to calm down. She puts both hands back on the wheel, fingers drumming on the leather while she ponders her next words. “All I’m saying is—”

“That you don’t want me alone with your sister, I get it.”

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“Sure it isn’t.”

Okay, so maybe they are fighting, but it’s weird how calmly they’re carrying it out. Like they’re discussing the stock market and not Kara’s wellbeing. 

Lena can see Alex’s frown deepen, her eyes harden, and so raises her hands in a conciliatory gesture, putting an end to it. She’s not sure they’ll be friends again, but being at odds with one another doesn’t help Kara, especially now when she’s so lost. 

“Look. You know as well as I do that if something happens, having Kelly around will just put her in danger. The same goes for you. Have a team on call if it’ll make you feel better, but I think smothering Kara would be the wrong thing to do. She’s stressed enough as it is.” 

“You could be in danger too if Kara can’t control herself.” Alex insists. Tension has drained from her tone, and her eyes shine with genuine worry. That confuses Lena — how Kara’s sister seems able to run hot and cold towards her at the same time. But making her mind up about the way she feels is something Alex needs to do on her own. In the meantime, Lena will make an effort to be civil.

“What if I feel that I owe this to her? For—” Lena pauses, but from the look of understanding that flits across Alex’s face she doesn’t need to add anything else. 

“I’ll have a squad on hold a block down from your place. Just in case. Here.” She fishes something from her pocket and hands it to Lena. It looks like a black pebble, smooth to the touch. Sized to fit in the palm of a hand, or unobtrusive inside a pocket. “I know Kara gave you a watch to call her with, but this is to call me if you can’t reach your phone for some reason. Just press on it once to have it scan your fingerprint then you can keep it close by and it activates by touch.” 

Lena does as instructed, marveling both at the technology and the gesture. She definitely hadn’t expected Alex to do that. 

“You’re both still alive. Good.” 

Their heads whip around to find Kara getting back into the van with them. She’s lugging a backpack along. “I’m all ready. Shall we go?” 

***

Getting to the penthouse takes longer than anticipated. There’s an accident on 5th, police and paramedics swarming at the scene, which means Alex is forced to take a detour, like everyone else trying to drive through that part of downtown. 

They end up stuck in bumper to bumper traffic, with Kara trying to convince Alex she should go and help, and Alex stubbornly refusing.

“They were already clearing the area, Kara.” She tells her for what feels like the hundredth time as the car in front of them finally starts moving. “You flying in now would create another traffic jam with all the people who’d stop to gawk.” 

“She’s not wrong you know,” Lena interjects, earning herself an outraged gasp. “Besides they seemed to have things well in hand.”

“I think I like it better when you are fighting.” Kara grumbles, hugging the backpack to her chest. “At least then one of you is on my side!” Lena watches her pout and huff in annoyance, an ever-so-slightly fond smile creeping across her lips. 

Further discussion is prevented by them reaching Lena’s apartment, and for the next hour or so they’re too busy setting up the red sun lamps to have time to bicker. 

Well, she and Alex do most of the work, while Kara flits anxiously in the background until Lena gently suggests she picks them a restaurant for takeout and some movies to watch in the evening.

They place a sun lamp in each room, and when they turn one on as a test, it only hampers Kara’s powers, just as Alex said. 

“It’s still better than nothing,” Lena says, staring as Kara tries to fly around the living room, only managing to hover as high as the back of the couch. “At least you won’t sleep-fly to another continent tonight.” 

“Yeah.” With a sigh Kara gives up, and lands on the couch in a graceless heap. “They make me feel a little funny, but I can cope with that for a night or two.” 

“Funny?” Alex joins them in the living room, a tablet in hand. “All the other lamps are set up, Lena. If you lend me your phone I’ll install the app to remote control them. Funny how, Kara?” 

Kara sits up, legs spread, and lets her head fall against the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling. 

“I don’t know?” She opens her arms. “Like… At the DEO I can’t use my powers at all, but these lamps only make it harder. I can still do stuff—” she demonstrates by levitating a span or so from the pillow. “But I have to actually think about it. _Really_ think and it tires me out.”

“That’s the point,” Alex switches the lamp off, Kara sitting straighter the moment the red glow winks out. “But make sure to tell Lena if they make you sick or something. They work on the same principle as the permanent fixtures we have at the DEO, but as I said they’re prototypes. Guess this is a trial run.”

“Anything else we should know?” Lena inquires as she accepts her phone back. The remote control app sits prominent on her home screen, and when she opens it, she finds it similar to the one she already uses for the led lighting inside the house. Given some time and the source code to work with, she could merge the two, make everything more functional. But that’s a thought path she’s not sure she wants to follow. 

Alex is okay with her having the lamps because she knows it’s only a temporary measure. Lena’s not sure she’d agree to something permanent. Kara being vulnerable inside the DEO is fine because Alex is there. Kara being powerless around a Luthor is acceptable only as an option they are forced to take. 

“Alex?” She repeats, eyes searching Kara’s face. She’s still sitting on the couch, but even though she’s put up a brave face she’s tensing up again. It’s getting dark outside, not quite evening, but definitely not afternoon anymore. The city’s winding up for rush hour, a frantic sixty or so minutes of people racing home before the roads empty of most cars until the morning. 

“No. No. Unless you’ve got questions, I’ll be on my way and leave you to…uh…whatever…” Alex followed her gaze, eyes brightening in understanding as they come to rest on Kara. It’s obvious she’d rather stay, but she’s agreed to Lena’s suggestion already, and for once sticks to her word. 

“I’ll walk you out.” Lena ushers her on, and Alex has no other choice but to trail behind her.

“Just call if…” She starts when she’s already got one foot out the door. They can’t see Kara from where they’re standing, but she cranes her neck anyhow, looking torn. 

“I promise, Alex.” She pauses, then lowers her voice further. “We both want the same thing here.” 

“To protect her.”

“Right.”

“Okay.” Alex’s head jerks up and down in a stiff nod. “Goodnight then.” 

“You too.” Lena says, knowing it’s highly likely neither of them will get much sleep.

Lena retraces her steps, expecting to find Kara where she left her. Instead, the couch is empty, and Kara’s drifted to the bookshelf that takes up an entire wall, eyes attracted by the assortment of knick-knacks and trinkets crowding the shelves. 

“I’ve been in your apartment plenty of times, but I don’t think I ever really spared these a second glance.” She delicately lifts an elephant carved out of jade and holds it to the light, sparks of copper bouncing off the polished surface. “This one reminds me of your eyes.” 

Lena turns her head, hiding a blush. 

“Father said the same thing when he brought it back from India.” She walks up to Kara’s side, smiling at the memory. “He was always travelling and he’d bring something back each time. A gift for me and one for Lex. A way to assuage his guilt over being abroad so often, I imagine.” She fails to keep an injured note from entering her voice. Her childhood had been hard but not for the reason one’d imagine. She’d grown up wanting for nothing, yet the gifts, the private schooling, the horse riding lessons — material things can never replace love. 

Her father loved her in his own way, or he wouldn’t have taken her after her biological mother died. And Lex had cared for her the way one cares for a favorite pet they can teach tricks to, but his affection was conditional. Subordinated to Lena doing as he said. Lillian had been the worst, outright despising her but allowing her to try and enter her good graces nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry.” Kara sets the elephant down where she found it, and raises a hand to Lena’s face, freezing at the last second. The look in her eyes says she wants to offer comfort, but is afraid it won’t be welcome. Lena wants it. She wants Kara to touch her, and to hold her in return. The exhaustion she accumulated over the past few weeks tips the scales in favor and she leans in, nuzzling her cheek into Kara’s palm.

She can feel Kara’s fingers tremble slightly before she cups her cheek, thumb tracing the curve of her jaw. Lena melts into it, and doesn’t want to stop it. For the first time in months her walls don’t automatically go up when Kara gets too close, and the voices in her head, that tell her she is unworthy, undeserving, remain silent. 

Pulling Kara into a hug, the perfect way they fit together is just the obvious consequence. She can’t tell how long they stay like that, with Kara’s head resting on her shoulder and Lena’s arms loosely wrapped around her waist, but when they reluctantly untangle the sun’s gone down, and daylight is a thin red line on the horizon. 

“Thanks.” It’s too dark to be absolutely sure but Lena can’t shake the feeling Kara’s blinking back a tear. “I needed that.”

“You’re welcome.” Her own vision clouds, and she has to breathe a few times in order to continue. “I did too.”

She could say more and almost does, but thinks better of it. Lena’s not certain she would be able to find the words to convey the love she has for Kara anyway. And now isn’t the time to lay herself bare anyhow, but at least she’s stopped lying to herself. She’ll take what progress she can get, however small. 

It’s hard sometimes, to distinguish between love and obligation born of guilt, but if the latter’s fading as time goes by, the former isn’t. If anything, Alex’s words to her have solidified it, if accidentally. Hearing Kara call to her like she’d been dead, or irreparably lost had turned blood to ice in her veins. Lena still can’t get her brain around the fact she kept her cool long enough to be of any actual use. 

“Lena?” Kara’s attention shifted back to the bookshelf, and she’s giving her the look of a child who wants to eat their birthday cake without the guests having arrived. Lena is happy to indulge her explorations. Each object has a story tied to it, or at the very least a place, but she kept most of her father’s gifts out of apathy rather than heartfelt attachment. They’re far more precious to her now that they’re bringing some levity to Kara. 

“What about that one?” Kara’s pointing at a doll of painted wood. Upon closer examination it would become apparent that it’s hollow, containing a copy of itself in smaller size. And so on until the last one, no bigger than the tip of Lena’s pinky. 

“He brought that from St. Petersburg when I was… eight or nine I believe? It’s a—”

“матрешка.” 

The Russian word hangs between them, near visible in the sudden silence. Then the matryoshka slips from Kara’s nerveless fingers and crashes to the ground. The aged wood splinters. 

“I’m so sorry! I’m — I’m—” Kara clamps a hand over her mouth, blue eyes brimming with the sort of animalistic fear their ancestors must have experienced up to the discovery of fire. 

“Kara.” Acting quickly, Lena pulls her back into the safe circle of her arms, holding her tightly. “It’s okay. Just breathe for me, please?” She tugs Kara to the couch and sits her down, kneeling in front of her, careful to not break contact. Kara’s throat contracts, a thin sound making it out despite the hand she refuses to take from her mouth. She’s one wrong move from breaking. 

“Kara, listen to me.” Lena hardens her voice a bit, hands squeezing Kara’s knees to gain her full attention. She doesn’t like how Kara’s eyes seem to stare right through her, how contracted her pupils are. Two black pinpricks drowning in blue. “Listen. I want you to close your eyes and breathe. I’ll count it out for you, okay?” It’s a technique her own therapist taught her in the months after their spat. When anger had threatened to consume her, hot and destructive, her sanity fraying, Lena would walk herself through the same exercise. Over and over, until a semblance of peace returned. 

“Okay.” Kara’s hands fall atop Lena’s clutching them. “I can do that.”

Lena waits for her to close her eyes, then flips her hands palm up in Kara’s, their fingers threading together. 

“That’s it.” She croons, low and careful. “That’s good. Inhale now, as deep as you can.” Kara’s chest expands and Lena counts to four. “Exhale.” 

They go through it several times, and the deathgrip Kara has on her gradually loosens. 

“Better?” Lena asks, reaching up to tuck a lock of wheat-gold hair behind her ear. 

“Yeah.” Kara’s voice is wet with unshed tears. She clears her throat, pushing them down. “But how did I know…?” 

“I reckon the doll acted as a trigger.” Lena throws a look to the broken trinket on the floor. Outside the night is jet-black ink, and the pieces of wood are barely visible in the glow coming from the street, many floors below. 

“It happens with objects sometimes. Our brain connects them to memories or traumas that may be buried so deep down we don’t even know are there.” 

“It sounds like you’re talking from experience.” Kara’s fingers push through her hair, and Lena startles, realizing she’s still kneeling at her feet. In the dark. How silly they must look, right about now. 

She refuses to think of what seeing bodies of water does to her. 

“You carry part of the other Kara inside you. It’s possible that stress and lack of sleep have shaken fragments loose.” Kara is worrying at her lower lip, eyes a thousand miles from where they are. “Anyway, it’s getting late.” Lena stands, gripping Kara’s hand for balance. “Why don’t you take a shower and put on something more comfortable? Then we can order food and settle in for the evening.” 

“Can we order from Foo Lam?” Potstickers. Of course. 

“Yes. We can do whatever you want.” 

Kara grins, looking like her usual self for the first time that day and it’s infectious. Lena feels herself smile back. 

This might just turn into a nice evening after all. Another step in the long process of rebuilding what was once between them. 

***

Complications arise when it’s time to sleep. 

Kara’s slept over at Lena’s plenty of times before; in the guestroom one door down from her own bedroom at first, and then sharing Lena’s bed as they’d grown closer. Kara would sit in bed with her to talk, but they’d end up losing track of time so often it was just easier for her to slip under the blankets with Lena at 3am rather than trudge to a cold bed. 

Now things are different. After one unhappy look at Lena’s bed, Kara goes to the spare bedroom without prompting, the light of the red sun lamp spilling out into the hall almost immediately after. 

Thinking of the tender moments they shared mere hours ago, Lena almost calls her back, but what she told Alex about smothering goes for her too. 

If Kara wants more company, she reasons, she’ll come asking for it. 

Still, she leaves her door open, in what she hopes is a message that Kara’s welcome to.

Lena is in the middle of writing an email, putting one of her VPs back in his place when she hears shuffling at the door. She tears her gaze away from her tablet’s screen, to find Kara peek in from the doorway.

“Uhm. I was wondering if…” 

“It’s okay if you don’t feel like sleeping alone.” Lena pats the empty spot next to her. There’s enough bed left for four, honestly. “Hop in.” 

Kara basically leaps to the other side of the bed, but once there, she stops. 

“I mean it, Kara. You can sleep in here with me. I don’t mind.” Lena opens the app Alex installed for her and turns on the red sun lamp in the corner. 

The bedroom is plunged into an artificial sunset that reminds Lena of the night light she used to have in her room when she moved in with the Luthors. 

“Okay.” After a brief hesitation, Kara peels the cover back and slips in next to Lena. There’s room to spare between them, but Lena can tell from how still Kara holds herself that she’s as stiff as a board. 

“Hey.” She puts the tablet away and shuts the small lamp on her nightstand. With the red sun lamp as the lone source of light she can’t really see. Everything is blurred lines and soft shadows. 

“It’s fine.” Lena reaches for Kara’s fingers under the blankets, thumb skimming over them. Next thing she knows, Kara’s clutching at her wrist, holding on to her like she’s a lifeline. 

“I’m sorry.” The apology is chased by strangled sobs, and Lena’s left not knowing what to do. She wants to gather Kara in her arms, rub her back until the tears subside. Feel her fall asleep with her face tucked in the crook of Lena’s neck. It’s too much too soon, but her heart nearly explodes with yearning. 

So she settles for holding Kara’s hand and murmuring sweet nothings in the dark. She doesn’t pay much mind to what she’s saying, all senses focused on Kara’s ragged breathing, but it seems to work. 

Eventually tension bleeds from Kara, letting Lena know she made the right call. She sinks into the mattress with a sigh, and rolls over to face Lena, not letting go of her hand. 

Minutes later she’s asleep, and Lena dozes off soon after, the warmth generated by their bodies seeping into her bones. Down to heat her marrow.

She wakes hours later with hair tumbling across her face, drool sticking her cheek to the pillow and the distinct feeling she’s being observed. 

She cracks one eye open, the room slowly resolving into coherent images around her and nearly has a heart attack. 

Kara is awake, or as awake as one can be whilst being so glassy eyed. She is leaning down, so close to Lena’s face her hair’s falling forward like a curtain, tickling Lena’s cheek and throat. 

“My Alex lied.” Much to Lena’s relief, she’s speaking english, but it’s heavily accented. Stilted as if she’s learned it from an online class. “You are not evil. You are kind, and very beautiful.” 

“Uh, thanks?” Lena is out of her depth. Kara is obviously asleep, her double having taken over. 

“Can I kiss you?” She’d anticipated a number of weird things to come out of “Kara’s” mouth, but this hasn’t even made the top ten in her mind. Her heart flip-flops, eyes widening when she sees “Kara’s” gaze dropping to her lips. “I want to kiss you, beautiful Lena. _пожалуйста_?” 

“Maybe, uh…” Lena licks her lips and this strange, uninhibited version of Kara tracks every movement. “Maybe we should talk a little first. Before we get to— to _that_.” God, what’s gotten into her? She can barely talk. Thinking is out of the question.

She shifts, sitting up “Kara” changing position with her, inching closer when she thinks Lena isn’t paying attention.

“Darling,” she starts, brushing her cheek. “Do you remember where you are?” 

“да! Of course! I’m— I—” “Kara” frowns. Her eyes dim, flutter on the verge of closing, and when they open they’re rounded out showing the white of disbelief. Her jaws work around words that seem to want to gag her, and fingers scrabble over the blanket, grasping Lena’s with a forcefulness that would pulverize her bones untempered. “I’m… _dead_?” She shakes her head at her own words, so fiercely her hair whips across her face. “No! I don’t want to be dead!” Tears are streaming down her cheeks, a river of them. A flood. “I want to be with you!” 

“Oh, honey.” Without thinking of the consequences Lena pulls her back down on the bed, holds her shuddering form close. “ _Oh,_ _love_.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new day brings overdue revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feelings! Hard truths! More feelings! 
> 
> Two gay disasters, one inevitable outcome.
> 
> \- Dren

Lena has no memory of falling asleep. 

She’d like to say she rises with the sun as usual, but the truth is she doesn’t stir till it's well past noon. 

The light shining on the curtains tells her the time before anything else does. The pale brightness of early morning already shifted to the bronzed tones of afternoon, and the south-facing bedroom is stifling with accumulated heat. It’s not a bother normally, since Lena almost never allows herself the luxury of lazing in bed till late, but today a film of sweat plasters her hair to the back of her neck, and more dampens the collar of her t-shirt.

Her thoughts are slow with telltale sluggishness — the symptom of having slept too deeply for too many hours — and it takes her twice longer than usual to fully get her bearings. 

Kara’s still pressed into her side where Lena left her before passing out herself. Her face is buried in the crook of Lena’s neck, fingers twisted in the front of her shirt to hold her close. Or to hold on — Lena cannot tell, but even with the sun lamp (it’s still functioning, she checked) it’s a white-knuckled grip she has no hope of breaking without waking Kara. 

It takes a bit of careful stretching, Kara groaning softly and throwing one leg over hers when Lena shifts a bit too much, but eventually her flailing hand closes over her phone. 

Immediately, she checks her messages, and discovers with a sick flip of her stomach that she and Kara slept through all of her alarms. There’s about thirty emails from work as well — just Jess forwarding her what demands some sort of timely response — and about twenty phone calls. 

_ All  _ of which are Alex’s. 

The process of leaving bed involves building a placeholder Lena out of pillows and an old sweater with her scent — something that classes at MIT didn’t cover — so that she can sneak off into the adjoining bathroom and call Alex back.

“Hey,” she whispers in her phone, her other ear pressed to the closed door for any sign of Kara-activity.

It’s approximately forty minutes since Alex’s last call. “Sorry I missed your calls.” 

Frankly, it’s a wonder a DEO strike team hasn’t kicked her front door down already. Lena doesn’t think it’s the sense of propriety that’s keeping them.

“It’s fine.” Alex’s tone is soft with understanding. “I admit I got worried, then I remembered how little you’ve been sleeping and I figured you were just exhausted.” There’s a short pause, which Lena uses to peer at her reflection in the mirror. Her skin is ashen, and the shadows under her eyes are ravine-deep. Still on the ugly side of dreadful, then. 

“How’s Kara?” Alex resumes on the other end of the line, whispering like she’s the one trying not to wake her sister up — and Lena’s startled back into the present. 

“Still sleeping. I’ll start on breakfast before waking her.” Although, considering the time, it’s more like a late lunch. A  _ brinner _ .

Kara didn’t even stir when she pushed the blankets back to climb out of bed. Her face had been scrunched up into Lena’s sweater, cheek stamped red where it’d been pushed against a pillow seam overnight. She’d mumbled a little when Lena tucked the covers back around her, something close to  _ fivemoreminutes _ — in an english that, much to her relief, had been thick with sleep rather than a foreign accent. 

Lena opens her mouth, almost telling Alex about what happened, but stops and weighs up her options. 

She’s pretty sure that letting Alex know Red Daughter resurfaced again is a surefire way to get that strike team into the house before she’s finished talking. Alex’d never hurt her sister, but she will confine her to the DEO until further notice if she thinks it’s for the best. 

Something  _ twists  _ inside her at the thought.

“Lena?” 

“Sorry.” Lena sighs, rubbing her eyes. God, but she could sleep for another couple hours. “I’m not completely awake yet.”

“I noticed.” Alex quips, some of the old bite returning to her tone. “I was saying that it’d be best if Kara sleeps over there another night. Unless it’s too much trouble?” 

“Of course it’s not.” Lena says, and it sounds like she’s covering up for something, which she is, but she hopes Alex’s too caught up in whatever trouble to notice. The slivers of fear lodged in her spine, she does her best to ignore. 

She averted one crisis, but what about the next? And yet, remembering the terrified look in Kara’s eyes the previous night, how tightly she hugged back in the living room, she can’t say no.

She’s got trouble looking at herself in the mirror now. If her actions caused Kara more pain… Lena doesn’t want to think of it. 

“It’s just, we’re having a bit of a problem on our hands.” Alex goes on, oblivious to her internal turmoil. “Nothing we can’t handle on our own, but if Kara knew she’d want to help and I don’t know if—” 

“If you can employ Supergirl in her current state.” Lena finishes for her. 

Anger flashes through her spine like a bolt of white-hot lightning. Lena breathes in through her nose, counts up to ten, releases a slow, deliberate exhale. 

She wants to scream it’s Alex’s  _ sister  _ they’re talking about, not just some tactical asset, but Alex wouldn’t understand, not while she’s in  _ Director  _ Danvers mode. 

Besides, it isn’t lost on Lena her own feelings may have her behaving in a way that’s encroaching on unfairness. 

“It’s the right call,” she grits out after a while, fingers so tight around the phone the cover (which is pink and  _ glittery  _ and a Kara-present she didn’t have the heart to throw away) starts to crack. “She’s been absorbing red sunlight for close to twenty four hours now, it’d take time for her to recharge.” 

At the other end of the line, Alex exhales in loud relief. 

“I knew you’d understand. Now, if you could tell her it’s just because we’ve got issues with some of the equipment and not—” 

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that.” Lena stops her before she has a chance to finish. 

Alex sputters, clearly at a loss, and Lena swears she can hear her brows furrow in furious thought. 

“But—” 

_ But you lied to Kara about the sleep-flying at the start. _ Alex doesn’t need to say the words for Lena to hear them hang between them. She had, true, but only because she couldn’t think of a way to tell Kara what was going on.

( _ and because you wanted her around _ — her inner voice takes great pleasure in reminding her —  _ you  _ humbug.)

“Lies almost destroyed us once, Alex.” She shouldn’t have to explain it, she really shouldn’t, but Alex can be as dense as a tub of wet cement sometimes. “I’m not going to hide things from Kara anymore.” The way she’d done when she’d pretended to be fine with Kara’s own set of lies. How nauseous it had made her feel to wait, and wait, and  _ wait  _ for Kara to tell her who she was, her heart clenching every time a window of opportunity presented itself, only to pass by them unopened.

Lena had been like the last leaf of a tree in the fall, aware that her fate was to flutter to the ground with all the rest, but still dreading the moment. 

“Lack of communication is what led you to not trust me in the first place.” Lena continues softly, when her heart finally slows down. “And I think…” She closes her eyes, briefly, overwhelmed by the feeling of Kara’s arms squeezing her tight. “I think I can rebuild something with Kara.” Maybe Kara doesn’t love her the same way Lena does, but she’ll be happy to have her as a friend. Have her in any capacity, really. She’s done pretending she doesn’t care, because if the past few days showed something, it’s that she cares far too much to sweep it all under a rug. 

And she’s done her best, alright? 

To stop  _ caring _ . 

She’s drowned herself in work, dismantling the damage she’d helped inflict in the first place. She sees her therapist twice a week now, and although alcohol is still a favorite coping mechanism of hers, Lena is proud to say her consumption has steadily decreased. 

(she’s basically stopped drinking since Kara started sleep-floating, but that’s best filed under adverse circumstances than progress.)

But, no matter all her trying, the things she’d stuffed in the mental box labelled  _ betrayal  _ have somehow U-Hauled to the one filed under  _ love  _ and  _ feelings _ , to the point it’s overflowing now. 

Taking over other boxes. 

Mental boxes Lena  _ needs _ . For, y’know, other stuff. Like functioning without thinking of Kara 24/7.

“What are you gonna tell her, then?” Alex asks, managing to come off as irritated, resigned and anxious all at once. 

“The truth.” Lena simply says. “That you are dealing with something—” She doesn’t honestly care to find out what it is — if Alex is on the phone with her it can’t be world-ending bad — “and that she shouldn’t be doing hero-stuff until what’s currently affecting her is brought under control.” 

“She’ll want to help,” Alex repeats like Lena didn’t hear her the first time. “You know she will.” 

“Kara will understand. She’s not stupid, Alex.” Lena snaps, louder than she means to. The sound of her own voice reverberates around the bathroom, and she flinches, inwardly cursing at herself. 

(good job not waking Kara up there,  _ genius _ .)

“But—” 

“I’ll handle it.” Lena shuts the call in Alex’s face mid-sentence, while she’s trying to lay out (for the  _ third  _ time — and  _ come on _ , that feels like commentary on Lena’s own intelligence now) why it’s such a bad idea to be upfront with Kara. 

After the fact, she spends several minutes just breathing, eyes glued to her locked phone screen. She’s surprised at herself. Shocked, actually. 

The truce with Alex lasted 24 hours all told. 

(okay, maybe that’s not so shocking all in all.)

She’s trembling, she realizes, and she’s biting her lower lip hard enough to make it hurt. 

Her hand is clenched too tightly around the phone, her jaws are doing their utmost to grind themselves into fine dust. 

She needs to breathe, to calm down, but can’t.

Following a sudden, unstoppable impulse, Lena puts the phone on silent and places it on the edge of the sink. 

If that strike team does breach into her home they’ll have to answer to National City’s entire police department. And the private outfit providing security for her building.  _ And  _ the state’s superior courts. 

Which, considering the DEO is supposed to be a secret agency, Director Danvers wouldn’t like very much.

Not. One. bit.

One deep breath. Two, and Lena’s ready to head back into the bedroom.

She’s not ready to confront the sight she finds waiting for her there. 

When she’d gotten up to call Alex, Lena’s main concern had been not to wake Kara. The fact they’d shared a bed for the first time in months hadn’t really registered with the sleep-fogged brain, but now it does. 

Now it hits her like a meteor entering the atmosphere at terminal velocity, or a freight train hitting her squarely in the chest. 

Lena is physically knocked back a step, and has to cling to the doorjamb to stay upright on legs that have turned to clay underneath her. 

All of a sudden, Lena is  _ exhausted _ . There’s the toll little to no sleep already took on her, the aches of a night spent on the floor at the DEO, which a few hours of rest in her own bed have failed to sooth. 

And then, there’s the sheer amount of emotion flowing through her, a flood wave that is impossible to box up and hide the way she’s used to doing. 

Lena almost gets back in bed on autopilot, but stops in her tracks the moment she realizes a blue eye is staring back at her from the sea of blankets.

“What is it you’re not going to lie to me about?” 

Kara’s voice is sort of muffled by all the blankets, which helps Lena pretend she hasn’t heard and walk around the bed to switch off the red sun lamp. 

“Lena?” Kara sits up, and pulls the blankets to one side, like she can read the desire for closeness on Lena’s face. Maybe it’s written on it — who knows? — she used to be much better at masking her true feelings, but something inside her seems to not be working right. “Lena, please talk to me?” 

It’s a mistake, she knows as soon as she sits back down on the bed, the mattress dipping under her weight. As soon as Kara scoots back to make room, Lena’s body lowering itself down as though the bed is a magnet and she a piece of iron. 

Lena can’t help it. She lets herself sink into the mattress with a sigh, and when placeholder-Lena is dismantled — the pillows pushed back under real-Lena’s head — she doesn’t protest. 

Her spot is as warm as she’s left it, and Lena exhales again, weariness pushing her back toward sleep. It’s hard to resist — she is sure she could sleep the rest of the day away, and then some — but Kara is still staring at her, eyes expectant. 

“It was Alex,” she eventually replies after having spent a couple of moments nuzzling her pillow. She rolls onto her side to face Kara, and the distance between them is significantly reduced.

It’s easier to breathe, but harder at the same time. 

“And?” 

“She—” Lena’s never been so aware of how many times per minute her heart beats inside her chest. She’s sure she couldn’t lie to Kara even if she wanted to. It would echo loud and clear in the uptick of her pulse. “They’re having some sort of trouble at the DEO. She didn’t share the details, and frankly, I didn’t care to ask.” By her side Kara stiffens, and Lena absentmindedly reaches out, fingers brushing her cheek. Kara gasps, startled by the touch, but tension drains from her almost immediately. “She assured me they’ve got it under control, and asked if it was okay for you to stay here another night, until they sort things out.” 

“She thought I’d insist on rushing in to help.” Kara’s frowning a little, lower lip caught between her teeth in thought. “That’s why she wanted you to lie.” Harshness laces her voice and her frown deepens, her face entirely overcast, but she doesn’t seem aware of it. 

“She’s doing her best to protect you, in her own way.” Lena feels compelled to offer. “Which, admittedly, may not be the best, but she’s trying.”

“I know I can’t be relied upon right now,” Kara mumbles, lips twitching on the edge of a sullen pout. “I’m not an  _ idiot _ .” 

The detailed list of reasons Lena’d mentally prepared to convince Kara Alex could handle things without Supergirl for a while may be superfluous after all.

“I told her the same thing.” Lena says. “And you’re more than welcome to stay another night. I told her that as well.” 

That gives Kara pause. She closes her eyes, and seems to fold inward. The silence around them is near absolute, the sound of traffic distant — muted thanks to the thick window panes and the sound-proofing Lena paid a fortune for (she’s always been a light sleeper). 

“Thank you.” She reaches up to close her fingers around Lena’s hand, still cupping her cheek. She opens her mouth, as though she’s about to add something else, then changes her mind and contents herself with tracing small, nervous circles on the back of Lena’s hand. 

It’s peaceful, the closest they’ve felt to one another in a long time, and Lena remains quiet, barely daring to breathe. Loathe to spoil the moment. 

“It’s late, isn’t it?” Kara asks, remembering they’re maybe not supposed to laze in bed all afternoon, but looking like she’s not at all opposed to the idea. 

Lena isn’t either, but she is familiar with the ways of Kara’s stomach, and knows that, even with the large quantity of chinese food the Kryptonian ingested the evening before, their idyll isn’t gonna last.

“Early afternoon by now.” Closer to four o’clock, really, the sun already playing hide and seek with downtown’s skyline. “I’m sure I’ve got something I can turn into a late breakfast.” 

“Not yet.” Kara blurts out, cheeks reddening so fast that Lena wonders whether instant blushing is a superpower she didn’t know about. “I mean… I’d like to stay here a little more if you don’t mind? With you?” 

They’re still holding hands, and when Kara wiggles, trying to dive under the covers, she ends up inching even closer to Lena. 

She could put an end to it, she ought to, but they are as trees that have decided to try and sprout out of the same stretch of ground. Too tangled to be pulled apart without permanent damage. 

Warmth collects between them, and the urge that comes with it to sleep is nearly overwhelming. There’s the same heaviness in her limbs she feels after a grueling day at the office, and she’s already started to give in, her mind growing fuzzier by the minute. 

Lena didn’t want to move away to begin with, and with Kara’s hand in hers, with her body so close, she’s tempted to bury into her instead. She has a feeling Kara would just wrap her in a hug, and cling to her as fiercely as she’d done the previous night. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this scared.” Kara admits quietly, her fingers tightening around Lena’s. “I mean, facing the end of the multiverse was frightening, but a part of me managed to stay positive.” She’s speaking the words into her pillow, her eyes fluttering shut as she remembers what they’ve all been through. “I knew we’d pull through, but now…” she trails off, and opening her eyes, stare right at Lena. “I don’t know. What if this doesn’t go away? What if it’s my new normal?” 

“You have people that love you, Kara.” Lena almost tells her there and then, that she numbers among them. “And they’re not gonna leave you alone, no matter what.” 

“I shouldn’t even be bothering you with it, anyway. I’m—” 

“Please don’t.” A press of fingers to Kara’s lips is enough to silence her, thankfully. Lena already knows what she’d been about to say, definitely knows the distraught look crossing Kara’s face. That small quiver her lips do before curving into a grimace, the creases forming on her forehead. To her, Kara has been an open book for years, and that’s why being so thoroughly blindsided had hurt so much. 

“Lena—” 

“No.” She shakes her head so forcefully the blankets partially fall off. The room is cooler now, with the sun slowly going down, and a draft sneaks under the covers as though it had been lying in wait for the first opportunity to do so. 

Lena shivers. 

“We don’t have to go back there. Ever.” Lena carries on through Kara’s guilt-fuelled protests, ignoring them all. She’s heard how sorry Kara is about the lying hundreds of times. Thousands. In the first few months after their reconciliation it had been a common occurrence. Something would happen, some minor inconvenience not even related to her, and that would set off the apology train. 

Their lunch order would arrive slightly delayed, and  _ I’m sorry I betrayed your trust _ . A sudden downpour would drench Lena from head to toe on her way to CatCo, and  _ I never meant to lie to you,  _ Kara would say while rushing out to bring her an umbrella. 

She’s gotten better, especially after Lena made it clear that her constant apologies only kept the wounds between them open longer, but sometimes she will relapse. 

Like she’s doing now, and Lena can’t take it, not after what she’s been through the night before already. 

“That’s done, okay?” She does everything in her power to keep irritation from her tone, but some slips through. “We’ve agreed we would move on, and nothing’s changed.”  _ Everything  _ has. She can’t stop thinking about how in love she is with Kara. Almost spills the beans again. “And I know you think it’s an imposition, you being here. Maybe a few months ago it would have been, but not anymore. The fact that I avoid coming to the DEO as much as I can doesn’t mean I want to avoid... _ you _ .” 

There. That’s as close as she’s willing to let herself go for the time being. Her fingers are resting against Kara’s lips, and before she can pull back, Kara’s captured her hand and is kissing her knuckles, nuzzling her nose against the back of her hand. 

The touch of Kara’s lips is chaste and fleeting, but enough to make Lena’s entire body tingle.  _ Burn _ , as if the simple sign of affection set her nerve endings on fire. She could spend what’s left of the day (she could stay like this forever—) here  _ easy _ . 

A gurgle emerging from somewhere underneath the pile of blankets saves Lena from doing something she’d immediately regret — for example acting on the feelings she’s so recently acknowledged. Kissing Kara breathless, then kissing her some more. Letting her hands wander. 

“I should really get started on some food.” As gently as she can, Lena frees her hand and rolls out of bed. “You take all the time you need. There’s clothes you can borrow in the drawers in case you’ve only brought one change.” She’s already at the door, pausing to nod at the closet before retreating further into the hallway. “Breakfast for dinner sound good?” 

Kara says something in response, but Lena doesn’t really hang around to figure out what. Hers is not so much an orderly retreat as it is a rout, heart pummeling against her ribs, almost bursting through. 

Kara would be able to hear it even if Lena left the red sun lamps on, which she chooses not to do. Prolonged exposure isn’t harmful, but they can’t afford to have any of the prototypes break down on them. 

She’s halfway through cooking the first stack of pancakes when Kara wanders into the kitchen, smelling of Lena’s own soap. Wearing the old sweater Lena had left with her in bed earlier on, and a pair of dark grey cotton joggers Lena hasn’t come across in months lost as they were in the bottomless depths of her wardrobe. 

The effect of seeing Kara in her own clothes is immediate. 

Catastrophic. 

Spatula forgotten in her hand, Lena freezes and gapes a little, feeling like a total fool but unable to pick up the jaw she dropped onto the floor. 

Kara’s hair, still damp from the shower is swept over one shoulder, and she’s leaning against the counter, watching Lena watch her with a shy smile and the hint of a blush darkening her cheeks. 

Smoke fills Lena’s nostrils, and she thinks it must be her brain cells burning in what is medically unprecedented internal combustion, but then Kara points at the stove and says:

“You’re burning our pancakes.” 

And  _ shit _ , Lena whips her head around in time to see the goop inside the pan begin to smolder at the edges, she  _ is _ .

To her credit, Kara steps in to help, and they have the almost-fire under control without resorting to the fire extinguisher Lena keeps under the sink for this kind of emergency. 

The pan is too charred to be salvaged, but Lena finds a decent substitute, and while Kara fries up some eggs on a skillet, she gets the rest of the pancakes done. 

The kitchen is by no means small, but with the two of them hovering near the stove it’d be easy to get underfoot. They don’t, moving around one another —  _ with  _ each other — like two cogs inside of the same machine. The practiced ease, the familiarity are things they learned before secrets poisoned the well of their friendship, mechanisms that were buried deep, but not unlearned. 

As she works, flipping cooked pancakes on a waiting tray, Lena can’t keep herself from stealing the occasional look at Kara, hoping to be subtle. She clearly needs to hone that particular skill set, because whenever she shoots the other woman a fleeting look, she catches her smiling faintly. Aware of the attention she’s getting and not bothering to mask how pleased she is by it. 

Brat.

Lena can’t help herself, really.

Kara has no right to look that good, or so soft, wearing her clothes. 

The sweater is big on Lena, but just right on her — even a tad tight across her shoulders. The joggers are a size too small as well, leaving her well-toned calves partly exposed, but Kara doesn’t seem to mind too much. 

“I hope it’s okay I took these?” She throws over one shoulder, all false innocence while Lena’s totally not checking out her ass. “They seemed comfortable.” 

“Yeah.” Yanking open the fridge, Lena puts her head inside it with the dual purpose of cooling off and checking there’s something other than seitan bacon for Kara. The cold isn’t much help, but she does find a couple of sausages that appear edible at a glance. She hands them off to Kara without looking and a few beats later the greasy smell of sizzling meat stinks up the kitchen. “Of course it’s okay.” 

(Maybe if she climbed  _ inside _ the fridge she’d get better results.)

“Lena?” Kara’s come up behind her, so close a warm puff of air tickles the back of her neck. She nearly lets out a startled scream. “Lena are you okay? You’ve been… Your heartbeat is…  _ Very  _ fast? I can’t tell if you’re scared or, uhm. Excited.” 

_ Both _ . 

Both sounds about right. 

Lena opens her mouth to reassure her that  _ of course I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?  _ but only a tiny sound comes out. 

She’d thought it would be easy to ignore the elephant in the room —  _ other _ Kara crying in her arms about her own death, voice broken by devastating grief — she’d had every  _ intention  _ of ignoring it, but she cannot. 

Lena doesn’t know if it’s the shared moments of domesticity that brought this sudden wave of choking tears about, but her vision’s blurry, and she can’t breathe. 

She can’t—

If only she could appropriate a fraction of Kara’s super-strength, and feel the fridge she’s leaning against give way under her white-knuckled grip. To inflict some of the inner agony she feels onto the physical. 

Or even so she could tear open her own chest, pry her ribs apart, and after having pulled her beating heart from its red cavity, offer it to Kara. 

“Lena?” Kara’s hand is resting on the small of her back, warm and  _ real  _ and grounding. “Lena, what’s wrong? Did… did something happen last night? Did I...uh… float around? Even with the lamps?” 

“No.” God, if only it were just that. “No, it’s not— you didn’t—” 

She doesn’t mean to tell Kara what happened, at least not the way it comes out of her, between sniffles and hardly contained sobs, but it happens anyhow. Lena tells her everything, and it’s a blessing that they’re done with cooking because the whole house could be going down in flames around them without either of them noticing. 

“I’m not dead.” Kara reassures her when her voice cracks from too much talking. Lena feels raw, exposed in a way she’s never been and doesn’t like. Besides, she should be the one in control, the one who gives comfort when it’s needed. Kara is already dealing with more than her fair share of trouble. 

As though she can read her mind, Kara tugs her into the circle of her arms. She pulls Lena close, then closer still, until there are no empty spaces left between them. Until her nose is buried in Lena’s hair, and Lena’s head is nestled under the roof of her chin. 

“We can be there for one another.” Kara whispers, sturdy hands spanning Lena’s back. “You were right, I’m not alone. But neither are you.” 

“I can’t lose you again.” Lena clutches at her harder, tears staining the fabric of the borrowed sweater Kara’s wearing. It smells like both of them now, her soap and traces of Kara’s cologne. Another tortured sob claws its way from her chest. It’s been so long since they held one another like this — not tentative like the night before, half-fearing, half-waiting for the other one to break away — but how they used to.

“I can’t.” Lena says again, and hopes that Kara will be satisfied with that, not pressure her for further explanation. The rest of it is sitting on the tip of her tongue, just waiting for a little nudge. 

Inevitably, it comes. 

“You can’t lose me again... _ because _ ?” Kara pushes two fingers under her chin, tilting her head until their eyes meet. 

Kara’s are the blue of the Adriatic sea — how Lena remembers seeing it from the window of a commercial flight when Father took her and Lex to Venice during Carnival. Her own are swimming with tears and sting with the same salt of those sapphire waters.

Jaws stubbornly set around the truth trying to find an out, Lena shakes her head, as if that’d be of any use. 

“Because?” Kara’s hand moved to curl lightly around the back of her neck, and unable to rip her gaze away, Lena drowns. 

When Kara pulls her in again so that they are cheek to cheek, and gently swaying from side to side, Lena allows it. She melts under her touch, tired of fighting what she feels, of pretending they’re just friends. 

To her, at least, they aren’t. 

“Because I love you, Kara.” She sighs against soft skin. “I’m in love with you.” 

Stunned silence greets her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [join me on Tumblr](https://kendrene.tumblr.com/) for more gay nonsense!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then they kissed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! Hopefully you won't hate me too much.
> 
> \- Dren
> 
> Отпусти меня или я убью тебя - let me go or I will kill you.  
> Я не буду предупреждать тебя снова - I won’t warn you again.

It’s amazing that there can still be something unspoken between them. 

Something heavy, a damp blanket scratching against her skin. Lena feels it. It presses down on her like lead.

She feels volatile too. Wound up. The trigger to an incendiary device.

Any minute now, the other shoe will drop. Kara will tell her she doesn’t love her back and Lena’ll laugh it off, play it cool (she’s had  _ years  _ to practice at playing things cool) as though that hadn’t been what she wanted to say either. 

_ You misunderstand _ — her lips form the words out of habit, the excuse ready to roll off of her tongue —  _ I was speaking platonically _ .

Lena and rejection are old pals — childhood friends, as it were. 

But Kara says nothing, and she finds out rather quickly how that’s a hundred, a thousand times worse.

The island in Lena’s kitchen, which doubles as a table thanks to the stools tucked around it, isn’t too big, but when they sit at either end it’s practically a throwback to the tense meals inside the Luthor household.

Lionel wasn’t often home, and once she was done growing Lena could understand the constant traveling better. It wasn’t just business or a whim, but a need to be away from Lillian. 

From the silences that went on for far too long, that made Lena feel like she was butter lathered too thinly on a piece of toast.

Away from what he’d call the  _ goddamned dinners _ when he’d had too much to drink, the four of them gathered round a table that could easily sit twenty. Lights low and the best silverware — the one with the L monogram engraved on it — laid out as if her stepmother expected the Queen of bloody England to stop by for tea. 

It’s the same now. 

Kara is close enough to touch — all Lena needs to do is reach across the kitchen aisle to brush her fingers against Kara’s hand — which she’s resting next to a plate loaded with food she hasn’t touched, yet. 

Well, and isn’t that a first. 

Kara’s usually a Dyson V8 in human form when food’s involved, but she’s completely ignoring her plate right about now. 

The egg yolks have gone from runny to congealed, and the stack of pancakes is sagging, leaning dangerously to one side like a culinary rendition of the Tower of Pisa. Held together by maple syrup and sheer spite, just as Lena is — minus the sugar. 

Kara’s not talking. She’s not eating. She’s not staring at Lena either, even though those searing blue eyes  _ are  _ pointed her way. 

Her gaze is unfocused, like she’s travelling within herself. Looking inward, at a memory or a feeling. Puzzling something out, if the line of tension between her crinkled eyebrows is any indication. 

The grip Lena has around her fork — which she picked up for form alone but hasn’t yet put to use — marginally tightens. She wonders whether her foolhardy confession will lure Red Daughter out, and does all she can to prepare. 

But there’s no preparing, really. Only apprehension, yawning open in front of her. A black pit, ready to swallow her whole. 

“You love me.” 

It’s not a question. Kara’s voice doesn’t climb in pitch at the end of the sentence, her eyebrows do not rise in expectation. Neither is it a statement. 

Lena wishes she couldn’t detect the note of disbelief in Kara’s voice, but it is there. The Kryptonian mutters the words again, dissecting them. Pulls each syllable apart with her tongue, as though she’s trying to glean the syntax underneath. 

But the grammar of love is complex — Lena doesn’t understand a thing of it herself. 

She’s always been better with numbers, anyhow. Mathematical problems can sometimes be solved different ways, but the right result is always one. 

This time it seems Lena’s careful calculations missed the mark. 

The probability of Kara sharing in her feelings was small to begin with, made smaller by Lena’s own mistakes. It thinned out when she’d broken into the Fortress, grown even slimmer once she’d agreed to join forces with Lex. 

If helping to bring down Leviathan had tipped the scales a little in her favor, her confession will bring them crashing down, she’s sure.

Lena should have run the variables in her head, calculated the percentage of success. 

She’d let her heart dictate her choice of words instead, given her emotions the upper hand. 

_ Emotions _ . The concept skids through her thought processes and Lena’s not surprised to  _ hear  _ it — her brother’s voice inside her mind, full of distaste. 

She imagines walking in on him inside their father's study which he claimed as his shortly after Lionel’s death. He’s standing by the window, hands clasped behind his back. Lost in his own thoughts. His gaze pensive, focused somewhere beyond the fog that obscures the mansion's grounds. When he senses her approach him from behind he turns — there's no surprising him. Not inside her head.

In this scenario, Lena can’t really see much of his face, but she instinctively knows that Lex’s lips are curled into a sneer.

_ How disappointing you are _ — he says, and she’s thrown back to reality.

If love was a matter of statistical probability, she guesses that emotions would be the outliers. The abnormal, aberrant values skewing the entirety of the study. 

“You love me.” 

Across from her Kara rests her elbows on the table, leaning forward with a smile that’s broad and bright. 

And, just like that, probability shifts.

But maybe Lena’s hallucinating. Maybe her eyes are deceiving her, and that isn’t a smile. It’s a grimace.

“it’s okay, Kara.” She hurries to say, stabbing the slices of cheese she has on her plate to sub for sausage as if she holds a personal vendetta against dairy. “Forget I said anything. I shouldn’t have said anything, especially now with Red Daughter resurfacing inside you. Ever, but now in particular.” She’s aware that Kara’s opened her mouth, and is trying to interrupt. She babbles on regardless, feeling the way she had at sixteen when Lillian found out she had smoked a joint. 

It takes Kara grasping her hand to cut her off. 

“I love you too.” She says, quite simply, but each word is a meteor thundering into the world of self-preserving lies Lena has been constructing — a world where Kara’s  _ absent _ , where she can come to terms with the fact her best friend doesn’t love her and survive — turning it to ashes.

“You... _ do _ ?” 

Lena's world strangely narrows. A revelation of such import should be deflagrating in her ears, but it doesn’t. Instead, the room smudges to an indistinguishable mish-mash of color at the edges; only Kara stands out with any sort of clarity. It's not due to a fault in her sight; there's nothing wrong with Lena's eyes. It's like having tunnel vision, but of the mind.

“Yes.” 

“But I—” Lena’s coffee has gone completely cold, but she takes a sip anyway, trying to put some order in her thoughts. One mouthful is all she can push down before her throat seizes up, making it impossible to swallow. “I did horrible things.” 

“We all have.” Kara squeezes her fingers a little tighter. “Earlier you told me to stop apologizing for lying to you. You should quit being so hard on yourself too.”

Lena’s laugh is curt and humorless — entirely self-deprecating. 

“I’ve never been good at following my own advice.” Just to have something to do, Lena forces another sip of coffee down. It’s acid on her tongue. “Besides, what I did— I could have—” 

Kara must be able to hear how hard her heart is beating against her ribs. To her, it feels like a hammer striking bone. 

“You fixed it.” Kara persists, her gentle smile never wavering. “We wouldn’t be where we are now without your help. Leviathan is defeated, and in no small part that’s thanks to you.”

Lena opens her mouth again. To say what, she’s not completely sure. Take her love confession back —  _ I was only kidding, Kara _ — but, and that is far more likely, to tell her she doesn’t deserve to be loved back.

“Lena, enough.” Letting go of her hand, Kara stands and rounds the table, coming to kneel next to her chair. Her face is serious now. “You love me, and I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I accompanied Clark to meet with you. You can’t take back what you said.”

Lena lifts an eyebrow.

“I can’t?” 

“No! It would be like…” Kara pauses, eyebrows drawing down in thought. “Like telling me we’d get potstickers for dinner and then giving me kale!”

Lena can’t keep a small smile from her face. She’s not altogether convinced she’s worthy of the adoration that she sees shining in Kara’s eyes, but the Kryptonian’s enthusiasm is infectious. 

“Fine.” She concedes, tilting her head in agreement. “Not taking it back.”

“Good.” Kara says instantly, her smile returning. It brightens the kitchen with the radiance of a miniature sun. 

“The right moment to tell you never seemed to come along, you know?” She’s still kneeling on the floor, but if the position is uncomfortable to her she’s too caught up in the flow of her thoughts to show it. “And I had the impression you loved me back too, sometimes. But mostly, I felt like you loved Kara. Like when—” She breaks off, hand gesturing between them as if she’s trying to visualize one particular event, or conjure it. Eventually, she manages to pluck it from whatever corner of her mind she’d stored it in, because she continues. “Do you remember the terrible fight we had — you and Supergirl — because of Kryptonite?” 

“How could I forget?” They’d said horrible things to one another, then. Things Lena had come to regret while staring at the bottom of an empty whiskey glass. Things she’s never really taken back, either.

“Well, you hated Supergirl, but you still cared for Kara. And I guessed — I was stupid I know — but I guessed that maybe you could only love one of… of…” Kara trails off, biting on her lower lip. 

The scars all of their fighting left behind are still there. Lena feels them too. Both of them are fragile, and all it takes for the old pain to flare up is a turn of the weather.

Lena is at a loss on how to make things better. Anything she could think of saying feels inadequate. Not nearly enough. For a short while, all she can do is try to figure out exactly what Kara means, hoping she’ll guess right, and then it clicks.

“Only love one of you?” Her voice sounds like it’s been dragged through broken glass and cut to pieces in the process.

It makes sense, though. Fits with everything Kara’s been saying about why she kept the lie going for so long in the first place. They have so much more in common than her anger had allowed her to see. Just because Kara was welcomed into a family that loved her as their own, doesn’t mean she doesn’t suffer from Lena’s same abandonment issues. 

“Yeah.” Kara hangs her head, eyes carefully averted. “And now that we’re finally getting over everything, there’s  _ another  _ me. And what if—”

“I love you.” Lena pulls her into a hug that nearly sends the both of them sprawling to the ground. Two of the chair’s legs lift off of the floor, and for a few tense moments, they become involuntary performers of a circus act. Then, Kara’s balance shifts, and they land safely, like so many other times before. “That’s never going to change, no matter what.”

Despite jerking her head up and down at her words, Kara’s still refusing to look up. There's only one thing to be done; Lena cups a hand under her chin, slow and careful, tilting her head up until the Kryptonian has no choice but to meet her eyes. 

“I mean it.” This close Kara’s eyes are an ethereal shade of blue, her pupils pinpricks of obsidian. 

They lean in at the same time, the air between them heavy with unseen galvanic currents. The world itself takes a collective breath, and Lena inhales with it, but before they can get to the kissing part, Kara’s stomach rumbles loudly.

“Uh.” A blush to rival any sunset suffuses her cheeks, and she pressed a hand to her stomach, doing all she can to silence it. Another rumble breaks the silence in defiance. “Uhm. I hate to ask you this, but do you think we could order some food?” 

Fighting down the smile that stretches across her lips is a futile endeavour, so Lena doesn’t even try. 

Besides, she’s hungry too.

“We can get anything you want.” 

The food they left on the kitchen aisle is probably inedible by now. Perhaps they can salvage the pancakes; microwave them to tide Kara over while they wait for their food order to arrive. 

The course of action may be wise; now that they at least partially unburdened, the Kryptonian looks ready to eat half of her kitchen appliances. Willing as well. 

The right moment for their first kiss is gone anyway, but Lena doesn’t allow more than a flash of regret to sting her heart. 

It will happen, and it matters not if it won’t tonight won’t be the night.

***

When it  _ does  _ happen, Lena isn’t even expecting it. 

They’ve moved to the living room, and the coffee table is littered with takeout containers. Almost everything is gone, but Lena thinks she can save some of the tofu and bamboo sprouts she ordered — mainly because that’s one of the few things on the menu Kara avoids like the plague.

A Netflix show offers unobtrusive background noise, and the lit tv screen is the only source of light. Flickering shadows flit across Kara’s face, going some way into shrouding her features. Still, Lena has the feeling that she’s stealing glances at her, although when she whips her own gaze around to try and catch her in the act Kara’s always facing the tv. 

At some point Lena leans forward — to get something she won’t remember after the kiss — maybe grabbing for the half-full bottle of Qingdao they’ve been sharing, which wouldn’t matter except it puts her in the perfect trajectory of Kara’s lips.

How it starts remains a mystery as well, or  _ rather  _ who starts it, but that seems inconsequential too, especially because she can’t think past how  _ soft  _ Kara’s mouth is against hers.

Post-event, small-hours-of-the-morning forensic analysis reveals it happens like this: they’re sitting on the couch, and have orbited closer and closer throughout dinner — not by conscious thought, but by a gravitational kind of pull only their bodies are aware of. They drift closer, and then they’re kissing, open-mouthed from the beginning. Needy and arching into one another with an urgency that speaks of things long overdue. 

Of course, this isn’t at all the way Lena had pictured it, and she’s been picturing it for  _ literal years _ . She’d die of embarrassment if Kara was to know about the pre-sleep fantasies she used to indulge in every night, in the cold loneliness of a bed too big for one.

She’d imagined it’d taste differently for one thing, not of beer and cheap chinese. In her fantasies they always kiss outside — mid-flight or on her balcony. 

Compared to that, this feels a bit…  _ mundane _ .

Then Kara pants something that sounds like her name, teeth grazing against her bottom lip, and Lena forget all about unfulfilled dreams because, fuck, this is— 

— It’s so much  _ better _ .

It’s perfect, and while they get attuned to one another — mouths awkwardly slanted, teeth clashing into teeth — it’s the worst kiss she’s ever been given (that she ever gave) as well. 

Lena soaks in every last detail anyhow. Stores all of it away to be revisited for when Kara will be going back to saving the universe on a daily basis and they won’t have much time to spend together. 

How pliant Kara’s lips are against her own, the warm heat of her mouth. The careful way her fingers unravel Lena’s ponytail, disappearing into the spilling mass of her hair and tightening at the back of her neck to keep her close as Kara starts to suck her tongue. The noises they both make, which have Lena’s face feel like it’s on fire.

If a process existed to isolate singular moments and trap them in jars like children sometimes do with fireflies, Lena would bottle this one up for keeps. She’d bring it wherever she goes, at the very least until they can make more. 

Memories, like this one.

Kara’s arms go around her, and Lena sags into the solid feeling of her body. Being encircled in Kara’s warmth is the closest she has come to feeling ordinary in weeks. It is not only safe, but  _ right  _ as well, and the steady drum of Kara’s heart inside her ears is a soothing sound.

It’s similar to having both feet on dry land after months of navigation, not knowing whether the light glimpsed on the horizon is that of the harbor or lightning searing the sky white.

It hadn’t really registered with Lena, how helpless the whole situation made her feel. How lost she’d been until now. The tiny boxes of her mind suddenly overflow, manholes uprooted by a flash flood, and before she can do something to prevent it, her cheeks are growing wet.

“Lena? Lena, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” 

Kara’s voice quivers with worry, but busy as she is trying to hold the tide of tears at bay. Lena hears it only distantly. 

She blinks, shaking her head. Moves in for another kiss, attempting to bury the ache that stabs through her chest in the warmth of Kara’s mouth.

“Not crying.” She sniffles, unconvincingly, pouting when Kara refuses to let her close the distance by placing a hand flat against her chest. 

“Okay.” Kara replies, which leaves Lena frowning in confusion because she’d already been gearing up to refute any sort of evidence to the opposite. 

“Okay you’re not crying.” Kara repeats, cradling her face as tenderly as one would handle an injured bird. Her fingers follow the line of Lena’s cheekbones, gathering the stray tears shining there. Kara doesn’t remark upon them — just wipes them away, again and again. Tirelessly, no matter how many more fall from Lena’s eyes. 

The gesture is so simple, yet so intimate. Lena is undone by it, and as her shoulders start to shake and Kara pulls her in to hide against her chest, she stops pretending to be fine.

“I’m happy, that’s why I was crying.” She croaks sometime later, craning her neck to meet Kara’s concerned eyes. “And because it dawned on me while we were kissing, how much time I’ve wasted hating you. I… We… We could have been doing this years ago, if I hadn’t been so stubborn.” 

She reclines more firmly into Kara, angling her face up to nuzzle the Kryptonian’s jaw. 

“And there were tears of fear mixed in, too.”

“That’s a lot of reasons for crying.” Kara points out astutely. Her fingers never stop massaging Lena’s scalp, and expertly find the pressure points at her temples to relieve her of a headache she didn’t even know she had.

“I’m bad at processing.” Lena hides further into her arms, and it doesn’t matter that Kara’s wearing borrowed clothes; she traces the symbol of El on her chest exactly as it would be if she were wearing her suit. Now more than ever Kara is her  _ hero _ .

“You weren’t the only one being stubborn about this.” Kara reminds her gently, placing soft kisses on the top of her head. “But anyway what matters most is that we’re doing this  _ now _ .”

And, like, she’s not wrong.

“When did you get so wise, Miss Danvers?” 

“Oh there’s nothing wise about it. Just a lot of trial and error.”

***

Sleeping arrangements bring along a fresh set of challenges.

“Kara, we've been kissing and cuddling for the whole evening. You could say we’ve been doing dating things. Surely, it’s fine for you to sleep with me tonight as well.” 

Kara doesn’t immediately answer. She’s staring at the bed like it’s a trap. Or lava. 

Lena didn’t bother making it after they got up, and the sheets are messy and twisted, outlining where they’d been resting. 

“Wait,” Kara turns, directing a frown in her direction. Her eyes are clouded by confusion. “We’re  _ dating _ ?!” The lilt of her voice is hopeful. 

“Technically no.” Lena finds no consolation in the fact that Kara’s blushing just as hard as her. “But we could be? If you wanted?” 

Now they’re both not looking at the bed. Great.

“Yeah!” Kara tries not to appear overeager and miserably fails. “I mean, I’d like to. But—” She halts and throws a slanted look to the bed from beneath her eyelashes. “We’re just, uhm,  _ sleeping  _ tonight? Right?” 

Lena makes a choked noise in the back of her throat. There was a moment on the couch when Kara’s thigh had accidentally brushed between hers as they shifted. At the contact, heat had run Lena through, and eddies of it tingle along her spine now, Kara’s thoughts loud enough for her to hear. It’s tempting to give in.

“It would be wise.” She briskly walks to the red sun lamp and switches it on, putting reins on her own imagination. “You know, just in case.” 

“Yeah.” Kara exhales, disappointment leaking into the word. “You’ve got a point.”

Red Daughter’s presence is a shadow stretching across the room. Neither of them has any idea what triggers her into existence, and getting ready for sleep is akin to walking on a slab of ice, not knowing when it will give out under their feet.

Even after they’ve made it under the blankets a measure of uneasiness remains, and it takes Lena rolling over, offering herself as the big spoon for Kara’s shoulders to finally unclench. 

“Hey Lena.” It’s obvious that Kara’s sleepy. Each word sounds like a struggle. Lena feels it too; fatigue, dragging on her limbs. 

“Yeah?” 

“What if she comes back, y’know, while I sleep?” 

“If it happens we’ll be ready for her.” Lena reassures, burying her face in the spot where Kara’s collarbone and shoulder meet. Her skin is warm, traces of Lena’s soap still trapped in the golden waterfall of Kara’s hair. Lena inhales the comforting scent, and when her lips brush the soft stretch of skin right behind the Kryptonian’s ear, Kara shivers against her. 

“Whatever happens, we’ll be ready for it.”

But she couldn’t be more wrong.

***

It’s the innate hunch that something’s wrong which wakes Lena up. 

The primordial instinct that in ancient times, before stone walls and locks were a thing, warned men that savage beasts lurked the blackness of the night. Invisible beyond the ring of light cast by the fire, but no less real. No less dangerous.

Regaining her bearings takes a few moments. The light oozing from the red sun lamp is disorienting, and only when she turns her face to the window, a sickle of moon hanging fat and yellow in the sky, does Lena get a sense of time.

In her arms, Kara is trashing, mumbling something into her pillow. The shirt that Lena gave her is clinging to her back, and her scent has shifted too. Lena doesn’t need superpowers to know she smells of fear. 

“Kara?” Pushing up on one elbow she shakes her by one shoulder, heart jumping in her throat. “Kara, darling, it’s just a nightmare. Kara wake up.”

But Kara doesn’t hear her. Or rather, it’s not Kara who wakes up.

“ _ Отпусти меня или я убью тебя. _ ” Red Daughter growls, eyes hard and as pale as Arctic ice. “ _ Я не буду предупреждать тебя снова _ .” Clearly, she doesn’t recognize her. 

“It’s me.” Lena touches her cheek, hating how badly her hand shakes. “It’s Lena. Your Lena, remember?” Her thoughts are sluggish with fear, and her already basic russian takes a hit. Stringing a sentence together feels like a miracle.

“Get off of me I said.” Lips curling back to show her teeth, Kara twists out from under her. She has years of combat training on her side, and even without powers, it’s laughably easy for her to slip free of Lena’s hands. 

They grapple for control, and in the commotion the lamp Lena mounted near the bed crashes to the ground, exploding into a hundred shards of glass. 

The red light winks out, plunging the bedroom in shadow. And that’s… that’s not good. 

By that point, Lena isn’t sure who’s holding onto who, but it doesn’t make a difference. Kara’s strength comes back to her in a rush of flexing muscles — not all of it at once, but enough for her eyes to shine from within, a streak of heat vision missing Lena’s face by a matter of millimeters. Air boils in the wake of the energy beam, scorching her cheek, and in one desperate bid to keep Kara from unleashing another devastating burst, Lena throws a hand up, covering the Kryptonian's eyes.

Taken entirely by surprise, Kara relents, the crushing grip she has on Lena’s wrist slackening enough that she can rip free, and bear her back down to the bed. To crash their mouths together, because frankly, she’s got no clue what else to do, and maybe a kiss will be enough to bring her Kara back.

(It works in fairytales, she might as well give it a shot.)

An entire century goes by before anything happens. Then.

“Lena?”

Red Daughter goes as fast as she has come, leaving a dazed Kara in her wake.

“Lena, what—?”

Underneath her Kara fumbles, pushing her back long enough to find the switch to Lena’s reading lamp.

Its light is different than that of the sun lamps, buttery and low, but so bright after the darkness that Lena squints against it, eyes filling with tears.

“Lena, Rao, what happened to you?”

Lena blinks, trying to put what happened into words.

The events feel distant, as if they did not happen to her, but to someone else wearing her face.

The soreness of her left cheek, however, is real enough. A throb that starts low, beating near the bone, but grows harder to ignore by the minute.

The way Kara’s staring, eyes wide with horror, doesn’t help.

She’s aware she’s slipping into shock, but unable to stop it.

“Lena, did I do that to you?” Kara’s fingers hover near her injured cheek, and despite knowing it would make her scream in pain, Lena wishes she would bring herself to touch.

They’ve lied to each other so many times her first instinct is to say no, but even as she gets colder and detached — slipping into the trance state she was so familiar with when growing up — Lena knows that would effectively bring them back round to square one.

She opens her mouth to reply, her lips fissured by lingering heat, her tongue a desert. Takes a breath and feels chaos bubble up around them, speeding them toward life-altering disaster.

“Yes.” She whispers, and waits for things to go from bad to worse. “You did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking for things to do as we slip into lockdown hell part two? Want more smut? 
> 
> Follow the link [on Tumblr](https://kendrene.tumblr.com/) for more gay shenanigans!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara and Lena deal with the aftermath of Red Daughter's appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a feeling you'll hate me some more. But this is as bad as it's going to get. Promise.
> 
> \- Dren

“A team will be here shortly.” 

Kara’s speaking to her, but Lena can’t concentrate on the words. Kara’s lips are moving, and she hears her voice, but her brain can’t make sense of what the Kryptonian’s saying. 

An insistent ringing fills her ears, black spots dancing across her vision and gathering at the corners of her eyes. Soon enough, she will see only in shades of black.

“Lena?” 

Kara crouches down in front of her, but without touching. She’s been very careful about keeping some distance between them, as if she thinks Red Daughter will jump out again otherwise to cause more trouble. To hurt Lena again. 

“Lena did you hear me?”

“Yes.” She forces out, only a tightened jaw keeping her teeth from chattering. “Team. Soon.” 

When her lips move to form the words pain cuts into her, sharp as a blade.

She didn’t think a burn could hurt this much, but all she can do to keep herself from throwing up over the thick carpet is dig her fingers into the bedding. Breathe in through her nose. Breathe out. 

She tries to focus on some of the objects around her, a technique her therapist taught her to fend off the occasional panic attack. The book forgotten on her nightstand which she’s gotten stuck halfway through despite her efforts. A photograph of her, Kara and Alex she’s only recently reframed. Motes of dust sparkling in the square of silver projected by the moonlight.

It doesn’t help, the blackness and the panic rising in a double tide. 

“Just hold on a little longer.” Kara soothes, and Lena wishes she’d just close the distance between them. Pull her into the protective circle of her arms and let her rest there. She’s so cold. 

But Kara doesn’t. 

Maybe it’s better that way. On the one hand, Lena craves comfort. On the other, she’s feeling so transparent — see-through, like spun glass — that even the most delicate of pressures risks shattering her. 

She grimaces and with the pull of her facial muscles the ache from the burn grows to untenable levels. 

There’s a mirror in the corner, but Lena doesn’t dare look into it, scared of what she’ll find. She feels air buffeting her cheek where her flesh is most inflamed. Peeled back from the bone — the thought flashes through her mind so sudden it leaves sickness behind. Her stomach tilts sideways, a ship taking water in the middle of a storm.

For that reason, she carefully avoids the far wall too, even though the acrid stench of burned plaster is way harder to ignore. 

But Lena doesn’t need to look to know what she would find there if she did. Scorch marks where Kara’s heat vision struck, bubbles rising under the wallpaint where the force of the blast hasn’t stripped it off altogether. It’s a miracle the beam of concentrated heat hasn’t punched right through, into the adjoining bathroom. 

The integrity of the wall is compromised, and she will need to have it torn down, not only where the plaster is runny like wax, but altogether. 

Still, it could have been worse.

The blast could have taken out one of the windows, and the debris might have fallen on somebody’s unsuspecting head, many floors below. 

It’s silly to think of estimates and quotes, of which companies she’ll need to call — people who won’t ask her any questions about why one of the walls inside her house is partly melted — but Lena lets her mind tackle a problem she actually knows how to solve.

Easier to think of that than of what happened.

“Kara?” 

It’s Alex of all people who puts an end to her stupor, calling out from Lena’s living room. 

“In here!” Kara has moved away without her noticing, straightening the room as best as she could, but now she’s kneeling next to her again, briefly cradling one of her hands in both of hers. 

“I’m gonna go, okay?” She says softly, and peers directly into her eyes for the first time since the accident. The normally clear blue is clouded and troubled. Looking greyer by the second. 

Sadness and worry lurk just beneath the surface, a damp wave that almost spills out before Kara flicks her gaze away, to a point over Lena’s shoulder. “Alex is going to take care of things.”

“Kara, wait. What—?” Go? Go  _ where _ ?

“It’s better this way.” Kara’s voice is low, pitched for her ears only. They can hear Alex and the rest of the team trample through the apartment, the older Danvers issuing orders as they go. 

“Trust me, Lena. It’s better—” Pausing, Kara pulls in a breath so big it seems to go on forever. She goes completely still and holds it in, only her eyes betraying emotion. “I don’t want to hurt anyone else.” She finishes, exhaling. The words are warbled. Liquid with a flood of unshed tears.

One tear  _ does  _ fall — Lena can’t tell if it comes from her or Kara — but it splashes atop their hands, still joined on Lena’s lap. 

The cold, unexpected dampness is enough to pull the two of them apart. 

Kara almost  _ rips  _ free, and two strides later she is at the window, a rush of displaced air announcing her departure. 

“Kara—” Lena calls again, but she’s already gone, swallowed by the night. 

And what’s worse, Alex enters the bedroom just in time to see  _ her  _ burst into tears.

***

“I thought you were busy.” 

Alex is spreading the contents of a first aid kit on the bed where Lena’s still sitting, unable to move.

“When my own sister calls me in a near panic, I make time.” Alex sounds surprisingly gentle. Lena’s not ready for that. She expected shouting, or a fight. Had even hoped for it. Anger would be a thousand times better than the impotence she’s feeling.

There are other agents in the apartment, Lena hears them move around the living room, talk softly on their radios. Possibly reporting back to HQ where she imagines Brainy is already cross-referencing data to puzzle out where Kara’s headed.

There aren’t many places she could go to. Midvale, perhaps, or the Fortress of Solitude. But those are obvious spots, and Kara must know they’ll be among the first places the DEO will search. 

Somewhere else, maybe. In the wilderness, far away from people she could potentially hurt. 

“Alex, you can’t—” 

Kara’s sister has donned latex gloves, and is reaching for her face to examine her injury. “The government can’t—” Lena tries again, jerking her head to the side, away from Alex’s grasping fingers. 

“We can cover this one up.” Undeterred, Alex cups her chin, holding her still. “Provided no more accidents happen and you…”

“You know I won’t say anything.” Lena’s bones are so leaden with exhaustion she doesn’t even have the energy to be mad at the implication.

Alex nods, turning Lena’s face this way and that, as she shines a medical penlight on the burn. 

“Neither will anybody at the DEO. Last thing we want is the NSA or another agency deciding that Kara in this state is to be considered hostile.”

The DEO is the only government body with the means to contain Kara, and should an order come down from above — from the President herself — Alex would have no choice but to comply. She’s well liked in the upper echelons, but that doesn’t make her irreplaceable, and it’s possible that a substitute wouldn’t act with Kara’s best interests at heart. 

“So, what now?” Through suspicion-slitted eyes Lena watches Alex load a clear substance into a disposable injector. “What’s that?” 

“Something for the pain.” Motioning for her to bare her throat, Alex pushes the injector against her skin. The metal needle punches through with a hiss, and Lena shivers responsively, coolness spreading outward from the injection point. 

“It’ll make you a bit sleepy.” Alex continues. “But that’s not a bad thing.” 

“It is.” Lena protests, already fighting off dizziness. The words are like fat bumblebees droning on her tongue. When they roll off it, they fly out all askew. “I need— I should—” 

“Help? You will once you’ve rested and we’ve gotten that burn properly tended to.” 

There’s two more agents in the room with them now, bearing a stretcher in between them.

“Alex I don’t need—”

“You need to listen to the one with the medical degree.” Alex cuts her off. Her tone never rises above a soothing murmur, and she wraps a Mylar blanket around Lena’s shoulders, helping her up off the bed. “You’re slipping into shock.” Alex continues, guiding her to the stretcher. There are other solicitous hands on her now — Vasquez staring at the wound on her cheek and looking a bit green because of it.

Lena wants to put up some sort of resistance — there’s an entire medical division at L-Corp that could take care of whatever she needs if they only let her make a call — but whatever Alex gave her is working through her system with devastating ease. 

She doesn’t fall asleep, her mind kept buoyant by sheer force of will, but floats in and out of self-awareness. The pain is gone, and she’s warm under the emergency blanket. Not as cozy as she would be in bed spooning or being spooned by Kara, but close enough. 

They take her to the DEO by helicopter, and the trip is a confused dream. 

Lena is aware of the rotors  _ whoop-whoop-whooping _ overhead, the bird pitching forward and waving in between downtown’s skyscrapers before it picks up speed, heading for the DEO headquarters right across the river. 

From where she’s lying she can’t see the city flashing by, but watches the play of light and shadow across Alex’s face. The older Danvers’ eyes go from her to the night sky in turns, and whenever she looks out one of the small armored windows Alex frowns, as though she half-expects to catch a glimpse of Kara zipping by.

The chopper has barely touched down that they’re rushing her inside. Like the wound to her face is worse than Lena knows it to be. As if she’s dying. 

Alex stays with her all the way; as they transfer her to a gurney, Vasquez alerting one of the medical teams on duty below ground. While they usher her inside, a nurse rolling the sleeve of her sleeping shirt up to insert a needle into the vein at the crook of her elbow. 

“I’ll be back later.” Alex promises, squeezing her wrist. “You’re in good hands.”

“ _ Alex _ —” It’s hard to even think now — clearly they’re pumping her full of some other drug.

“We’ll find her, Lena.” Alex’s eyes are steady on hers, but she can’t hide her own fears. Not from Lena, whose heart is full of the same. “I promise.”

After Alex leaves, things get messy. For a time, Lena sleeps, only to be jolted awake by the sensation of something sliding against her cheek. It’s not exactly wet, but  _ foreign _ , and sculpts to her cheekbone as though it possesses a mind of its own. 

“It’s alright, Miss Luthor. Relax.” The face hovering above hers is one Lena recognizes despite the feature-obscuring surgical mask. Kind hazel eyes fix into hers, and she can tell Doctor Gupta is sending her a reassuring smile she cannot see by the way they crinkle at the edges.

“Alien derived tech.” Doctor Gupta explains, as more of the strange slime? liquid? drips on Lena’s cheek. “Synthetic skin. It adapts and bonds to any kind of tissue.” 

She tries to say something, but her mouth refuses to properly form words, and all she can produce is a hoarse whine. Shameful.

“Yes. It was pretty awful.” Running water gurgles nearby, and as the lights that have been shining into her eyes, nearly blinding her are dimmed, Lena catches sight of the surgeon washing her hands. “I think agent Vasquez threw up.” 

“Don’t worry.” Doctor Gupta adds, noting the widening of Lena’s eyes. “The bone was exposed, but as long as you give yourself time to heal, it won’t even scar.”

Lena wants to argue she has no time to rest. She should be doing something. On the field she’d be in Alex’s way, especially if it comes down to containing Red Daughter — god, she hopes it won’t — but she could help Brainy in the search. Surely her analytical skills —

“You need to rest.” Doctor Gupta shakes her head, cutting her thought process short. “Doctor’s orders.”

And, before Lena can do anything (it’s not clear what she could feasibly do, since she’s currently restrained), the surgeon fiddles with the IV line snaking into her arm and she goes under. 

*** 

Once she’s awake and back on her feet, Lena doesn’t join Alex in the search. She’s sure she’d not be welcome to tag along even if she wanted. 

The older Danvers sister hasn’t said so explicitly yet, but Kara had been in Lena’s care when the accident happened, fleeing her apartment as its consequence. 

After the initial shock wears off, Alex might decide to start pointing fingers. 

“The doctors said you should rest.” Nia pleads with her as Lena dons a spare DEO uniform. The shirt, obviously meant to fit someone more muscular, is a bit loose around her shoulders and chest, but it’ll do for now. Her apartment, she’s heard, is still off-limits, with technicians canvassing it for clues on Kara’s whereabouts. 

Alex is there, Lena learned from Nia after some gentle prodding, having already searched both CatCo and the L-Corp building further downtown. 

Better. Means they won’t be in one another’s way, at least for a while.

“I  _ have  _ rested.” She glances at her wristwatch. “For about six hours.”

Six hours too many, in her opinion. 

“But Doctor Gupta said…” 

“I know what she said, Nia.” The room they assigned to her in the medical center is small, but functional. Lena even managed to take a hot shower, with Nia fretting on the other side of the closed door and asking if she was okay every five seconds. 

There’s even a small mirror, fogged up by vapor, but she’s become really good at avoiding looking into those. She knows her cheek is bandaged anyway, because the first thing she did upon waking had been to touch it gingerly. A residual measure of pain lingers, but it’s a dull throb, easy to ignore. 

“Listen.” Lena continues when it’s plain that Nia is not done arguing. “How would you feel if it was Querl in Kara’s place right now?” 

“I—  _ oh _ .” Nia’s eyes widen, her expression going from argumentative, to confused, to shocked, to happy in a matter of seconds. “You mean you and Kara—” 

“Yeah. I mean, sort of.” Their first kiss seems unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Part of Lena can’t be kept away from the terrible thought it was what triggered Red Daughter’s latest appearance. It would be par for the course for them; not being able to  _ be  _ together now that they want to.

None the wiser to her internal turmoil, Nia claps her hands in delight. “That’s awesome, Lena! I’m so happy for you guys.”

“Yes.” She does her best to sound, if not cheerful, at least not like she’s going to a funeral. “Then you understand why I can’t just sit this one out, can you?”

“I guess.” As she strides to the door, Nia is an apprehensive secondary shadow. Outside, the hallway is empty, and a heavy atmosphere has descended over the entire wing. A thick blanket of silence under which the echo of their footsteps is strangely amplified. 

Releasing a breath she hadn’t noticed she was holding, Lena makes her way to the nearest elevator. Her legs still feel somewhat like butter, and the cold sweat popping along her hairline after such a light exertion is clearly her body trying to tell her she could definitely go for some more rest (a century of sleep), but she sets her jaw, ignoring it. 

Knowing she’ll pay for her recklessness with interest eventually. 

***

Getting out of the DEO is, in the end, much easier than Lena would have thought. She didn’t come with anything other than the clothes on her back, but displaying exceptional foresight, Alex had grabbed her phone for her, so once she’s signed herself out, she’s able to call a cab.

Doctor Gupta will have plenty to say next time they cross paths at the DEO, Lena’s positive, but Kara is more important than her face potentially scarring. 

Torn between wanting to force her back into bed and following her around, Nia resigns herself to let her go. 

Lena spends a handful of minutes reassuring her she intends to take it slow and that her personal assistant will have her booked into a hotel room asap. 

What she doesn’t say is that the person she’s reached out to while Nia was busy with her release forms isn’t Jess at all. 

By the time the cab that picked her up from the DEO comes to a stop across from Kelly’s apartment complex, Lena’s nodding off in the back seat. On the way in, the driver stared at her with the expression of someone who’s used to spotting trouble a mile away, but she gets a concerned frown now, that not even a more than generous tip succeeds in smoothing over. 

Waving his offer of help aside with a smile that leaves her feeling like her face is stretched too thin, Lena hurries to Kelly’s.

Crossing the street is such a challenge, she doesn’t think she’s ever been this grateful to Elisha Otis for inventing the first safe passenger elevator as she is today. 

She finds Kelly already waiting for her, the door to her apartment held partly open in welcome.

“I saw you cross the street,” Alex’s girlfriend explains, shutting the door behind her. “Christ, Lena. You look like—”

“Shit?” She finishes for her, perching on the edge of the plush couch. Her legs give out halfway through the motion and she nearly misses the couch entirely, not as much lowering herself down as falling into the pillows — a rather inelegant sack of tired potatoes. 

“Here.” Placing a cup of tea on the coffee table, Kelly takes a seat next to her. Near enough to steady her should there be need to, but not so close that Lena ends up feeling crowded. 

“Thanks.” Taking a sip, Lena allows herself a few seconds of contemplation. The tea is just the right temperature, round with flavor on her tongue. The act of sharing a warm drink with someone she considers a friend helps her cling to sanity.

“I assume you know what’s going on?” She says when her cup is half empty and she can’t beat around the bush any longer. 

“Alex briefed me, well…  _ briefly _ .” Kelly’s sympathetic and there’s concern on her face, but Lena doesn’t see a trace of pity. Which is just as well — tears are threatening to choke just fine all on their own. 

As poor as the play on words is, the first stifled sob is turned into a chuckle.

“I imagine she was in a rush.” Lena quips, when she’s able to talk again. She doesn’t mean to come off so clipped, and almost apologizes, but Kelly is nodding along to her words with a smile.

“Yeah. Alex can become pretty… fixated, especially when it comes to Kara. Sometimes that makes her lose sight of other important things. And people.” 

Lena makes no comment on the latter, but she can imagine. She has no exclusive over all-nighters and emergency meetings that never end. In loving Alex, Kelly has condemned herself to a life of waiting — she does help the Superfriends, when Alex lets her — but her spoils are anguished vigils. It’s the same for Lena. 

Always wondering whether Kara is flying to her doom. It had been bad to go through it as friends — the guessing, the fear — bad when she hated Kara’s guts and couldn’t stop worrying about her anyhow. It’s worse now that she’s finally embraced her feelings for her. 

She tells Kelly everything that happened without really realizing, pausing only to ask her for more tea, voice gravelly and unfamiliar to her ears, like something dredged out of the cracked depths of the earth. 

“I was hoping you might offer me some insight.” She concludes, startling a little upon realizing that the sun has climbed up in the sky halfway to noon. “I think that to help Kara we need to understand what’s happening inside her.”

“Are you familiar with the concept of the psychic apparatus as detailed by Freud?” Kelly answers with a question from the open kitchen, where she drifted off to make them sandwiches. 

“Controversial. And regarded as outdated by psychologists, I thought.”

“Simplistic, rather.” Placing a full plate in between them, Kelly waits until Lena has picked something to eat before continuing. The sight of food makes her a trifle nauseous, but she knows she needs to put something more nutritious than tea in her stomach. 

It helps that Kelly kept it simple; ham and cheese on slightly toasted bread. 

“There has to be some part of Red Daughter still left in Kara.” Kelly resumes, between a bite and the next. “Just think about it. When she was created as a copy of Kara, albeit accidental, she was drawn to you and Alex.” 

“Which means some of Kara’s memories had been preserved, despite the different…” Lena halts, searching for a palatable word. “ _ Upbringing _ .” Is the one she settles on, which doesn’t even begin to cover what Lex had tried to do with her. How he had used her.

“So, you see. When Kara absorbed Red Daughter…” 

“The reverse would be true. Her training, the russian language. It makes sense. Kara’s remembering Red Daughter’s experiences. But I still don’t understand—”

“What it’s got to do with Freud?”

Lena suspects, but she’d rather Kelly spell it out for her. They can’t afford any more mistakes — next time Red Daughter resurfaces, it could be civilians getting hurt.

“This side of Kara must have been relegated to her subconscious, along with her deepest desires, her darkest fears. Whenever some external factor triggers these, Red Daughter is pushed to the fore as well.” Kelly wipes crumbs from her pants, eyebrows drawn in thought. “Normally what Freud identified as the ego would mediate and filter out the worst of it, but something — stress perhaps — must have completely unbalanced her.”

Stress. Between the death of the Multiverse and the fight against Lex and Leviathan they’ve had plenty of that to go around.

“Do you think the fact that Kara is fighting to compartmentalize these memories instead of letting herself accept them is making matters worse?” 

_ Do you think this is all my fault? _

“It’s possible.” Kelly must have read the guilt in her eyes, because she reaches out, placing a reassuring hand atop her arm. “Like a transplant patient rejecting an organ. But I also think that chasing after her in your state won’t help either of you.” 

“I wasn’t planning to.” When Kelly’s eyes doubtfully widen, Lena adds. “Not right away.” 

“Then what? Because you’ve got the look of somebody with a plan. Or at least the beginnings of one.”

“I just think that we can’t help Kara understand Red Daughter if we can’t do so ourselves. And I know where we should look.”

“Lex.” 

“Yes.” Lena tries to rise, and promptly wobbles sideways.

“I’m coming with.” Placing one arm around her shoulders Kelly helps her stand, steering her around the apartment like an invalid as she gathers her things.

“But Alex—” 

Not that Lena’s  _ scared _ , but Alex can and will get in the way, especially if she thinks Lena’s putting her girlfriend in danger.

There’s a dangerous glint in Kelly’s eyes, and Lena’s suddenly reminded she’s former military.

“You leave Alex to  _ me _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking for things to do as we slip into lockdown hell part two? Want more smut? 
> 
> Follow the link [on Tumblr](https://kendrene.tumblr.com/) for more gay shenanigans!

**Author's Note:**

> [join me on Tumblr](https://kendrene.tumblr.com/) for more gay nonsense!


End file.
